And In This Dream
by Colleen
Summary: Hamlet, hauntings and heartache. In an unusual theatre an actress named Yuffie catches the attention of dangerous things, things which includes Vincent an actor with the theatre who's recovering from injury and loss.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII is owned by Square Enix and whoever else has dibs on that property. I am not Square Enix, nor do I have dibs so I do not own it. I've just invited a couple of characters from it to come and play around in my world for a little while, don't worry I'll return them when we're done. I will not be making any money on this so please, no suing.

Hamlet belongs to Shakespeare. I'm sure it's in the public domain, but I thought I'd mention it anyway.

Any other characters and references to characters that obviously don't belong to me belong to whoever they belong to. Again please, no suing.

Author's note: This is AU and when I say that I mean severely AU. This is also a Yuffie/Vincent story and they will be the only two characters from FF VII to appear. If none of this appeals to you then please, bow out now. But it you'd like to give it a chance then I hope that it will entertain.

Apologies: I am sorry for the amount of Hamlet in this work, it was something I used that helped me to actually write after a long dry period and when I was done I found that I had made enough references to the scenes that I could no longer pull them out.

More Apologies: This story is a bit of a mess and my attempts to edit it into a readable story have not gone well. So now I'm trying to do it chapter by chapter, posting them as I go and hope that it will all make sense by the end.

Summary: Hamlet, hauntings and heartache. In an unusual theatre an actress named Yuffie catches the attention of dangerous things, things which includes Vincent an actor with the theatre who's recovering from injury and loss.

Rating: M for violence, language and some smut (not a lot, but some).

And In This Dream...

By Colleen

ACT 1

SCENE 1

The man, tall, with long dark hair that swayed to the ragged panting of his breaths dropped to his knees, his sword clattering to the ground beside him. Another young man, his face pale with horror and not yet fully realized grief dashed to him, mindless of the bodies that lay around them. He caught the swordsman before he could drop the rest of the way to the ground, cradling him in his arms.

The swordsman's pain filled eyes of velvet burgundy looked up into pained hazel and spoke.

"I am dead, Horatio."

With a glance to one of the scattered bodies he continued.

"Wretched Queen, adieu!"

With another shift of his attention he took in the many courtiers that watched the scene before them with no small amount of horror.

"You that look pale and tremble at this chance, that are but mutes or audience to this act, had I but time... as this fell sergeant, Death, is strict in his arrest. Oh I could tell you...but let it be. Horatio, I am dead, thou livest. Report me and my cause aright to the unsatisfied.

Horatio, for that is who the young man who held the dying swordsman with such care must have been spoke, his voice cracking as he attempted to form sentences around the sorrow that packed his throat.

"Never believe it," he said. A slight cough that came close to a sob was his attempt to clear his voice.

"I am more an antique Roman than a Dane. Here's yet some liquor left."

The dying man's eyes widened as his friend reached for the cup of poisoned wine that had killed the Queen. "As thou'rt a man give me the cup." Anger and desperation gave him the strength to fight with his friend for the poison. "Let go, by Heaven I'll have't. He wrested the cup from Horatio and threw it, tainted wine spilling across the floor as the cup bounced away from them with a clatter and a clang.

Panting from the effort the swordsman fought against his own body for the strength to continue his plea to his friend. "Oh God, Horatio, what a wounded name, things standing thus unknown, shall I leave behind me." He grabbed tighter to the man who held him up. "If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, absent thee from felicity awhile, and in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain to tell my story."

The sound of cannon firing over the tread of a thousand marching feet stopped whatever reply Horatio may have intended to make.

With a slight frown and eyes that no longer appeared to have the ability to focus on anything more than a few feet away from him the dying swordsman looked off towards the sound and asked, "What warlike noise is this?"

Osric, a courtier that Horatio remembered watching his friend run witty circles around such a short time ago entered to bring the news. "Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland, to the ambassadors of England gives this warlike volley."

"Oh, I die, Horatio," the swordsman said, reclaiming his young friends attention. "The potent poison quite o'ercrows my spirit. I cannot live to hear the news from England, but I do prophesy th'election lights on Fortinbras. He has my dying voice. So tell him, with th'occurrents more and less which have solicited... the rest is silence."

And then the swordsman died.

Horatio hugged the pale dead man tight to him for a moment then laid him gently down. He levered himself to his feet and looked upon the body of his dear friend with tears in his eyes. "Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!"

'No,' the dead body thought, 'I don't get any rest until we get to the end of this scene.'

Really it wasn't all that long but playing dead was strangely one of the most difficult things he had to do as an actor. Give him twenty pages of dialogue and he'd be happy. Give him twenty pages that had him bouncing off of every surface strong enough to hold his weight long enough for him to jump from it and he would be ecstatic. Make him lay still for too long and he'd be ready to fidget in less than two minutes. Thankfully it wasn't too much longer than that before his and the other bodies were lifted and carried away by a procession of soldiers.

Then it was a quick jump to his feet and an even quicker straightening of his clothes and hair as he listened to the applause from the sold out theatre.

His leading lady, who had played Ophelia to his Hamlet, hugged him suddenly from behind and he smiled back at her as he intertwined his arms with hers. His desire to turn and kiss her was interrupted as the curtains parted and the actors stepped up to take their bows.

When it was his turn his elegant bows hid the shakes of excitement as he took in the sight of the packed theatre giving their performance of Hamlet a standing ovation. He took the hands of the actresses who had played the Queen and Ophelia and gave them each a quick kiss on the cheek before they all turned to the audience for their final bows.

SCENE 2

Backstage was pandemonium.

Actors held court with friends, fans and family as dressers attempted to retrieve costumes and the crew dodged those members of the audience that had managed to make their way backstage to get a look at how the world of the theatre appeared from the other side of the footlights.

The biggest crush of humanity centred around Vincent Valentine and Lucile Chandler. The two actors clung to each other, obviously very much in love and happy to show it. They chatted with friends and theatre patrons the two of them still witty and bright even through they both were swamped by the exhaustion that comes when the rush from performing gives way to fatigue and muscles sore from the extended time on the stage.

During a brief lull in the action Lucile gave a devilish little grin and whispered into Vincent's ear. "By the way, Happy Birthday old man."

Vincent snorted slightly. Vincent was twenty-seven to Lucile's twenty-four which was nothing now but when he had been a very grown up (at least in his own mind) teenager of thirteen she had been a mere ten year old. She was never going to let him live down that time in his life when he hadn't had any time to pay attention to his younger next door neighbour.

"I know that playing Hamlet at your advanced age is probably one of the best presents you could ask for," she continued. "However, once we get out of here I hope to give you an even better one."

Vincent could hardly stop himself from scooping her up right then and there and leaving with her in a flurry of goodbyes. However he managed to hold out for the rest of the congratulations and after seeing the last of his well wishers off he quickly closed the door to his dressing room and gathered up Lucile in his arms.

"Ummm." She said as she snuggled in deeper and he breathed in the scent of grease paint not yet removed and whatever it was that she used in her hair that always smelled so good.

"Maybe we should just stay here," he said with a smile. She gave him a little mock frown and a slight swat to the arm before untangling herself from him and heading to the door.

"Give me about twenty minutes to do a quick change and then let's go home," she said. Home being his place. The large echoing house that would be permanently filled with her presence in less than two months.

Sometimes just thinking about the two of them, finally married and together forever sent shocks of pure joy through Vincent's body.

"Knowing you I seriously doubt you'll manage to do that in twenty minutes," he said with a smile. "But don't take too much longer or I'll end up walking in on you." He wiggled his eyebrows and leered in a manner that got a laugh from her as she headed out to get changed.

Now alone Vincent pulled his long hair away from his face using a strip of red material as a head band and took a quick swipe at removing his makeup. He changed to his street clothes, leaving the costume laid out for his dresser to put away latter. This only took him about ten minutes so he sat at his makeup table idly playing with the pistol that had been a Birthday present that Aaron, Horatio to his Hamlet, had given him before the start of the play. The two men had known each other for about three years and even though the other actor was six years Vincent's junior it hadn't stopped them from becoming good friends.

Vincent held up the old duelling pistol, admiring the play of light across the metal of its surface. Not many people knew he collected old guns and he looked forward to trying it out as soon as possible. As he repacked the weapon into its case a book that sat on the edge of his makeup table caught his attention and he frowned slightly. He picked it up and flipped through a few pages, shaking his head as he did.

"I thought I put this away last night," he said, slightly perplexed.

Book in hand he stood and walked over to what appeared to be an unbroken blankness of wall at the far end of his dressing room. He moved his hand across the surface until he found what he was looking for. With a sudden push on the wall a small panel snapped open, exposing an twelve inch tall, ten inch wide and 16 inch deep space that was easily big enough to hold the slim volume in Vincent's hand. He placed the book inside and gave the wall another tap to close the panel. With a slight smirk and a shake of his head he thought back to when he had first found the book.

It had been weeks ago. Vincent remembered sitting in the dressing room, slumped in his chair. The days rehearsal had been gruelling and he had begun to wonder if they would ever be able to pull the separate bits and pieces together to make a whole play. With a sigh and a rub to his tired eyes he'd creaked to his feet intending to find a few of his fellow players and go out for more than a few drinks.

Crunch.

Either his back was worse than he thought or something else was in here with him making noise.

Crunch...crinkle...crunch.

He followed the noise to the end of his dressing room, listening closely. It seemed to be coming from inside the wall, or perhaps from outside the building itself? He was certain that there wasn't another room that shared the wall so it had to be one or the other.

Crinkle.

He put his ear up to the wall. Did they have mice maybe? Not something they needed that was for certain. Just the thought of suspending rehearsals while the theatre was pest controlled made him cringe.

Crinkle...crunch...SNAP!

The panels sudden opening startled Vincent so much it almost sent him through the ceiling. Giving his chest a couple of thumps to reassure himself that his heart was still beating he peered into the open section of wall and reached in to pull out a small leather bound book. He flipped through the pages, noticing the small and tightly written words within. The handwriting was in a style decades old, the calligraphy well-formed and fairly easy to read. A quick look at what could be considered the title page brought a hmmm of surprise as the author claimed to be Clyde Blackwell, the man who had originally built and ran the Marionette Theatre over half a decade ago.

Vincent shook himself free from the memory. It had taken him a good hour before he had figured out how to work the panel and every spare moment he'd had between rehearsals he'd spent reading that book.

It was certainly a strange one.

Actually he supposed he should pass the book on to the management. As odd as it was it was a piece of history connected with the theatre. Of course he might just consider finding a way to not mention the little secret panel he'd found it in as it could be handy for storing a few items that he didn't want to see go walking off. If everyone knew about it then it would be the first place anyone would look, but if kept secret...

Ok, so he didn't really need to keep anything that safe, it was just the idea of having his own secret panel tickled him in that childhood place that liked secrets and nifty spy items.

'Ah yes,' he thought. 'Just call me Bond, James Bond.'

With a snort as his own silliness he pulled his makeshift headband off and tossed it at the makeup table, giving the thing an annoyed look when it managed to fall into the never to be seen again space between the mirror and the table. He shook his head for a moment over his lack of aim with anything other than a gun before grabbing up his trendy red trench coat and the gun case. He'd just go see how much trouble he could get into walking into his fiance's dressing room unannounced.

SCENE 3 

A lot of trouble as it turned out. One hand on the wheel of his car Vincent surreptitiously rubbed at his still stinging right shoulder and smiled. The pain had definitely been worth the moment. He glanced over at Lucile where she sat beside him; still slightly huffy about being caught in a half dressed state.

"Does this mean I don't get my birthday present?" Vincent asked her, whiny sadness in his voice.

"Humph!"

Switching hands on the steering wheel he made to slide his right hand across her shoulders, but she brushed him off, though not without cause.

"Both hands on the steering wheel Birthday Boy," she told him in a teasing voice. "Driving in this weather isn't something to be attempted without your full attention."

Pouting slightly in answer to her teasing tone he otherwise agreed with her. While the day had started out crisp and cool, dark clouds had rolled in sometime during the performance. Now they shed equal parts snow and rain, elements that were both being whipped about by a wind that just didn't seem to want to pick a permanent direction to move in.

Vincent slowed down a little as he felt his summer tires starting to lose traction. Better that they take a little extra time to get home rather than not get there at all. And if the weather was going to continue like this he had better get the car into the shop for a tune up and get his winter tires on. The trip from the theatre to his home was just long enough and difficult enough that you wouldn't want something that didn't grip the road. Not for the first time he wondered if he shouldn't get a second car, one that would run better in the winter than the little sports model he was currently driving.

He felt Lucile snuggle up beside him and even though he would really, really, really like to get home as soon as possible for that birthday present he slowed down again when he realised that he couldn't see more than a few feet in front of the car. Thankfully there wasn't much traffic out at this time of night in this weather...

The sound of metal tearing through metal almost deafened him as a truck slammed into the back panel of the little sports model's passenger side. Vincent fought the wheel in a futile attempt to stop the car from spinning as they careened out of control across rain slicked streets until, in a heartrending moment they suddenly and abruptly stopped.

If you can call wrapping a car around a tree stopping.

They'd hit the tree on the driver's side. The car buckled inward to meet the steering column and only the fact that Vincent had been going so very slow to start with was the reason the damage wasn't worse. As it was Vincent could tell that something was beyond wrong with his left arm and his side and head ached in time to his heart beat. Breathing hurt something fierce and he only vaguely registered the noise of a truck with recent engine damage attempt to burn rubber on the wet street as whoever was driving peeled away from the site of the accident.

A whimper from the woman beside him galvanized him to crawl through drifts of broken safety glass and the now empty windshield in an attempt to get to her door and open it. His usual grace was lacking and he skidded off the hood to drop in a boneless mess by the side of the car. There he spent a few pain racked moments learning how to breath again and trying to ignore the fact that it hurt even more to do so than it had a few minutes ago.

The smell of gasoline was what got him moving again. Even it if was only to his knees.

Really he knew that just because the car was leaking gas didn't mean that it was suddenly going to explode, things like that usually only happened in the movies. However it didn't mean that it couldn't. He tugged on the door handle, belatedly thanking whatever gods there were that Lucile hadn't locked the door when they had taken off.

He attempted to pull her to him with his good arm and came close to cursing as he realised that she was seat belted into the car. A few fumbling moments and he had her unlocked and once again attempted to pull her from the wreckage.

He just didn't have the strength.

The sound of a car stopping and running footsteps was too quiet over the crashing pain of his heartbeats and he almost snarled at the hands that reached in to help. Strong hands thankfully, they lifted Lucile out of twisted metal and towards safety while Vincent staggered to his feet to follow.

He'd gone three steps when the car blew up.

He saw whomever it was that had pulled Lucile out of the car drop and cover her with his body. Then he felt himself thrown through the air, darkness taking him before he could land.


	2. Chapter 2

Don't own it. For full disclaimer and other info please see Chapter One.

And In This Dream...

By Colleen

ACT 2

SCENE 1

Dressed in a slightly old fashioned suit of black with his left hand and arm encased in an equally black leather glove Vincent stood in the lobby of the Marionette Theatre and perused the poster announcing the theatre's latest production of Hamlet. He was well acquainted with the house's current troop and therefore had been surprised to see a new name in the cast list.

He'd avoided attending the rehearsals for the play as he'd found that ever since the car accident that even watching it was enough to give him vicious headaches. He'd hate to see what would happen if he actually had to perform anything more than a bit part in it again. His Hamlet probably wouldn't be feigning madness by that point of the play. Still if he had know that there was someone new in the group he would have looked in on it earlier as it seemed the new performer would be playing Lucile's old part of Ophelia.

Momentary sadness swept over his features as he thought of his lost fiancé and he carefully put the thought aside before it could cripple him.

What, he wondered, would the new Ophelia would be like? He hadn't been much impressed the last time he'd seen the theatre's current diva Rosella Parsons take on the role. To give her the due that was due her she was an excellent actress, however compared to Lucile her Ophelia had grated on his last nerve. It was another reason he had avoided the rehearsals, as he hadn't wanted to further destroy the memories he had of Lucile's performance.

"Yuffie Kisaragi, hmmm." He wondered if Yuffie was short for. The list of girl's names that he could come up with that started with Y was short and none of them seemed likely to morph into that.

The first performance was the next night. Should he wait and see the new girl as she first performed or should he seek her out now and get a sense of the actress before she started to act?

"Humph, not that an actor ever really stops acting."

With a minimal shrug he went off to find her, it wasn't like he had anything else to do.

Vincent made his way into the theatre's auditorium. After years spent in the building he knew it was one of the easiest ways to get backstage to the dressing rooms. Winding his way through the semi gloom of the cavernous room he stilled as if he'd heard something and then stepped further back into the shadows as he recognized the sound of footsteps on the boards of the stage.

--------00000--------

Yuffie stepped out onto the stage of the Marionette Theatre with a sense of coming home. She brushed her chin length black hair out of her eyes and smiled. In just over twenty-four hours she would be on this stage again, ready to breath life into what would otherwise be little more than words on a page. Beautiful words yes, but they would be so much more when they had the chance to move and flow with the actor's illusions of life.

As she moved to centre stage she carefully avoided the one spot on the boards that she knew would snap under her weight. For about the billionth time she wondered why they didn't fix that. The first time she had stepped there the boards had made such a sharp cracking noise that for a moment she had thought it a gunshot. It had startled her so much that she'd come in late on her cue, stammering out her line like an amateur.

She became even more flustered when she realised that the rest of the cast had been waiting for just that moment. She'd begun to think that gunshot might have been the right comparison as they looked like hunters that had just taken down fresh game. Thankfully it wasn't really in her nature to get angry about something that, when it came down to it, was little more than a minor practical joke. So good naturedly she had taken the ribbing about being jumpy. She'd even managed to smile (with a little teeth gritting) at the jokes about her being a little too heavy for the stage.

Actually that one was a laugh as she was probably the lightest person in the cast. Pixyish was often the word used to describe her. At five feet and five inches with a face tapered down to a slight point and stormy grey eyes that always seemed like they were looking for new ways to get into trouble, pixie was a very good description.

She did hope that it would be the only joke played at her expense, but she doubted it. Cast members were notorious for playing practical jokes on each other and she had heard a few horror stories about what went on in this theatre. Still she was probably safe until after opening night. No one wanted to mess up that.

She hit her mark for her talk with Hamlet in act three and started to recite.

She curtsied to an invisible Hamlet, "My lord; I have remembrances of yours that I have longed long to redeliver. I pray you now receive them." She waited a moment for the silent reply and continued. "My honoured lord, you know right well you did, and with them words of so sweet breath composed as made the things more rich. Their perfume lost, take these again: for to the noble mind rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind." She mimed the handing over of a packet of letters and small trinkets. "There, my lord."

With a little smirk and a small bow Yuffie broke off her bit of acting and practically skipped off the stage towards her dressing room. She couldn't wait for tomorrow.

In the shadows something shifted and Vincent stepped into the light, a stunned look on his face as he watched her go.

SCENE 2

"What do you mean the theatre is haunted?"

Yuffie rolled her eyes as the second person in the hallway attempted to shush a young woman who would be playing one of the many ladies in waiting during the play. The two girls appeared not to have seen her yet but Yuffie could usually sense a set up with her eyes closed. This one you would have tripped over even if you'd had ten miles of clearance on either side of it.

Oh goody the old the ghosts are going to get you shtick. Days of items being moved and misplaced all culminating in a flowing white clad attempt to scare the ever-living daylights out of her. Just how lame could you get?

The girl that had done the shushing said in a way too loud whisper. "One of the stagehands saw it last night."

"Saw what?" The first girl asked.

The second girl looked like she was fighting the need to lightly bang her head against a wall. "The ghost of course." The word idiot did not follow but you could almost sense it in the air as if it had been spoken.

"Ohhhhhh, but where did he see it?"

Yuffie wondered why some actors were so very good at improve and others couldn't act their way out of a wet paper bag without a script and a good director.

"On the second level, after midnight."

And just what, Yuffie wondered, was a stagehand doing wandering around the second level at midnight. The theatre should have been closed for the night by then.

"I thought the ghost was in the basement," the slightly (or perhaps more than slightly) perplexed girl asked.

"Ah, no that's something else."

Yuffie gave a little shiver. Just when she thought she had their acting level pegged the second one suddenly goes and gets good. She could almost believe that there actually was something lurking in the bowels of the theatre.

"Anyway let's get out of here and grab some dinner."

"I don't know..." The first girl said looking slightly chagrined.

A little sigh and a rolling of the eyes by the second girl. "I'll buy."

"Ok."

And they strolled off together; the first girl explaining just why she'd had to spend most of her disposable income on a pair of the most amazing boots she had ever seen.

As soon as they were out of sight Yuffie bolted to her dressing room to grab her coat and get out of the theatre before any possible practical joke could be set off. She made a mental note to completely avoid the second level and the basement for as many days as possible.

Of course, she mused; she could always step into the trap and just get the joke over with.

Like hell she could. She wasn't going to get caught out that easily. If they were going to spring a practical joke on her it was going to have to be a good one, not the silly piece of work she had just encountered.

With a little bounce she set out to pick up some dinner and spend a restful evening at home to counteract the stress and confusion that she knew tomorrow's opening night would bring.

--------00000--------

"I can not believe it."

Yuffie's angry stride ate up the distance from the deli where she discovered that she had forgotten to grab her purse in her attempt to flee the theatre and whatever lame practical joke was being set up to 'get the newbie.'

"Arrrggggg! Of all the times to forget my purse." That triple-decker sandwich had been crying out to be taken home and consumed and now she didn't even know if it would still be there when she got back.

She unlocked the actor's entrance to the theatre, thanking whatever gods there were that her keys had at least been in the pocket of her coat. She would have been stranded on the streets without them, unless she was willing to go begging to her landlady to let her in and the last time she'd had to do that the woman had made her feel lower than spit. There was no way she'd go through that again.

Hmmm, maybe it was time to make a key copy and hide it in some accessible yet entirely clever place.

Hauling the door open she decided to mentally debate the pros and cons of extra keys and more ways for other people to break into her place another time. Right now she just wanted her purse, her sandwich and home.

She'd completely forgotten the possibility of a practical joke.

She unlocked the door to her dressing room, flipped on the light and managed one step into the room before she found herself gripping the door and fighting back a shrill cry of terror.

While it was true that Yuffie wasn't very good at keeping her makeup table tidy she was certain that the mirror had not been dripping blood before she left.

A good bit of the mirror space was still clear and she could see that she had lost most of her colour. Pale as a ghost herself she crept up to the mirror and reaching out a finger coming within millimetres of touching the viscous red fluid that draped itself across the top and down the sides of the reflective surface. She stopped when she realized that the blood actually smelled like...blood. She suspected that whoever had set this up had raided a local butcher for the product, or at least she hoped they had. Either way she didn't want to be touching it.

Man, was this ever disgusting.

Not to mention very, very lame.

She snorted in disgust and picking up one of her grease sticks moved to write a message on the clear portion of the glass. Just a quick 'Nice try guys, now clean it up' would let them know what she thought of this lame'o stunt.

On the 'r' of try the stick made a horrible grinding screeching noise that raised the hair on the back of her neck and caused her to grit her teeth and cringe at the same time. Quickly she pulled the stick away from the glass and looked at the end of it.

Something silver glinted in the centre of it and she frown before rubbing her index finger across the end of the grease stick.

It was most definitely sharp.

Shocked she took a look at the other end of the stick, peeling away a bit of the foil that was supposed to protect your hands from the makeup while you applied it.

Another gleam of silver answered from the centre and she snatched up a pair of tweezers, using them to get a grip on the silver item.

It was the longest pin Yuffie had ever seen.

Yuffie shuddered slightly. Silly haunted theatres and revolting bleeding mirrors were one thing but running a pin through someone's makeup so they would at some point end up scratching themselves or possibly even cutting themselves open when they went to get ready to perform, that was something completely different.

Quickly she checked through the rest of her makeup. All of it seemed to be ok, nothing had been added or removed that would make a difference to it. She shook her head and gave a little sigh. She didn't like this but maybe, just maybe, someone thought that it wouldn't do more than give her a little scratch, something that could easily be hidden with makeup. Maybe they really didn't realise just how dangerous their stunt could have been.

She looked up into the mirror, expecting to see her face expressing equal parts annoyance and uncertainty. Instead she paled once again and backed away from it very quickly.

The blood was completely gone. If it hadn't been for the 'Nice tr...' written in grease paint and the scratch in the glass from the pin the mirror would have been clean.

Yuffie'd had enough; she turned and bolted through the dressing room door, down the hall and out the actor's entrance like she was being chased.

Vincent stood on the concrete steps to the second level watching as Yuffie fled from the building as if pursued by all the demons of hell. Frowning slightly he walked down the steps and looked towards the open door of her dressing room. He glanced back the direction she had run before heading to the room to see what had caused her to leave with such speed.

While he had of course been in every room of the theatre at one time or another he hadn't ever had much reason to spend a lot of time in this dressing room. Raymond Palmer, the casts current Hamlet had Vincent's old dressing room and Rosella Parsons who was playing the Queen had the room Lucile had used for so many years. The fact that Yuffie was playing Ophelia, basically the second female lead in the play was what had gotten her a dressing room of her own, even if it was a little smaller than the other two rooms.

The place was in that half tidy, half-ongoing disaster that all dressing rooms seemed to become in the final days towards the opening of a new play. Vincent made a slight tching sound at the mess on the makeup table before noticing the aborted message on the mirror. His eyes widened slightly at the scratch that marred the glass and he quickly searched the table for the pin he expected to find.

He almost growled when he held the vicious thing up, light gleaming off the tip of it. The mere thought of it cutting through that young girl's cheek, or worse, anywhere near one of her eyes made him see red.

Why would anyone want to hurt her like that?

True he didn't really know her. The most he knew about her was her few moments on the stage that day. That and he could tell she was already a bit of a veteran as far as the many quirks this theatre held. Only someone who had already run afoul of it would know to avoid that creaking (some said cursed) weak spot on the stage that could throw the most serious actor off his stride.

Vincent tossed the pin back on the table and looked around. As unpleasant as it was it didn't seem like it would be enough to scare the girl like that. Something more than the grease paint and scratch drew his attention back to the mirror and he moved his right hand a few inches above the surface as if feeling for static.

Something had been here. It didn't feel like it had been trying to scare the poor girl. In fact it felt like it may have been trying to warn her about something. Vincent looked down at the pin lying amid the jumbled up makeup and wondered.

He was thrown from his musings by the sound of the outer door being shoved open with more strength than needed. Light footsteps ran down the hall and Vincent backed up into the shadows at the edges of the room as Yuffie quickly scurried in. She gave one nervous glance at the mirror before grabbing a purse that was sitting on the table's accompanying chair. She backed out of the room, not looking at the mirror but obviously not willing to turn her back on it. She flipped off the light and closed the door as she left.

Vincent waited a moment, letting footsteps make their way down the hallway a distance before following her out to watch as she made it safely to the door and out of the building. With one more slightly perplexed glance back at her dressing room he promised himself that he would keep an eye on the girl then turned, heading off to continue his nightly wanderings.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Not mine, sniff. For full disclaimer please see Act 1.

And In This Dream...

By Colleen

ACT 3

SCENE 1

Dwight Petty was a crotchety old man and he knew it. If fact he more than knew it he revelled in it. And working in a place like the Marionette Theatre gave one plenty of opportunity to work in any number of snarky comments a day.

Why the day just wouldn't be right if you didn't get to be a contrary bastard at least once or twice (or twenty) times a day.

Of course sometimes it was wasted. People like Raymond Palmer wouldn't even be worth zinging normally as they never really got it; however he left himself so wide open so many times a day that one just couldn't let something like that go.

At the very least it was good practice.

Actually the new girl, Yuffie was a fun one. Mostly because she could appreciate a good hit and gave as good as she got. Trying to one-upmanship her could keep the old security/door guard amused all day long.

"Good morning Mr. Petty."

Dwight felt his heart lodge in his throat and he attempted to choke breath around it as he spun to take in the tall, pale form of Vincent Valentine.

"Damn it man," he sputtered, "don't do that to me."

Vincent gave Dwight a lift of his eyebrow and an almost invisible smirk before granting him a little bow of contrition.

Dwight didn't believe that bow for a moment, and if he'd been Vincent he doubted he could have resisted sneaking up on people like that either. No in fact he knew he wouldn't be able to resist. A cat would have made more noise moving across the floor than Vincent did and on top of that the man could hold so still that you often didn't even know he was there until he said something.

"Can't you make a little noise before you come up on people?" Dwight asked, slightly annoyed.

Vincent appeared to think about it for a moment.

"No."

Dwight sighed and shook his head. "So what can I do for you Vincent? I haven't seen you around lately." No surprise there Dwight thought, he knew what lengths the actor usually went to attempting to avoid any new production of Hamlet.

"I was wondering about the new girl, Yuffie."

"What about her," Dwight asked, slightly surprised.

"I saw her perform a small piece yesterday, she's very good."

Dwight waited for the rest of it.

"I was wondering if anyone has been giving her a hard time."

"Not that I've notice," Dwight replied; now a little concerned. "Have you noticed something?"

"Perhaps," Vincent said his voice slightly uncertain. "However I am not sure of all of the facts, what can you tell me about her?"

"Not much, she's a lively kid, lots of fun, lots of energy. It is possible she could get on someone's nerves at the rate she can bounce of the walls." Dwight shook his head. "It's probably a damn good thing that she doesn't drink coffee, I'd hate see what she would look like with a full caffeine buzz on."

"Raymond's made a pass or two at her..." Dwight's sentence bled off as he noticed Vincent actually register a look that mixed distaste with anger. He cleared his throat and continued. "Parsons just avoids her, the manager treats her like a slightly wayward daughter and the rest of the cast and crew seems to like her well enough."

"Don't forget that she's the new girl here Vincent. There's bound to be a few practical jokes thrown her way in the next few weeks. This theatre wouldn't be this theatre if that didn't happen."

Vincent nodded but didn't really look convinced. "Just keep an eye on her if you can."

"Not a problem," Dwight assured him. "I wouldn't want anything happening to that kid, she's the most fun this theatre's seen in a few years."

The sudden opening of the actor's entrance drew the guard's attention and he exchanged a few sharp edged pleasantries with some of the extras before turning back to find Vincent gone.

He shook his head. "That man really needs to make some noise when he moves."

--------000--------

Yuffie bounced through the theatre door full of her afore mentioned energy. No way was she going to let some stupid practical joke get to her. Even if it was well done...scary...and she still hadn't figured out how they'd pulled it off.

"Kid, you waitin' for a bus or somethin'?" Yuffie yelped, metaphorically pealed herself off of the theatre ceiling and turned to give the smirking security guard her best number two glare.

"Old man, what do you think you're doing, sneaking up on people like that, you could give someone a heart attack?"

Dwight gave a snort. "Hate to break it to you kid but most people expect the door guard to actually be at the door."

"Humph!"

Dwight raised his eyebrows at her stunning lack of a really good comeback and watched as the young actress peered cautiously down the hall.

"Yuffie?"

"Ahhhhh!" Yuffie jumped, obviously once again surprised. Dwight just shook his head, not really sure he wanted to know what was going on.

"Kid, much as I like your company you really aught to get to your dressing room to get ready."

"Right, dressing room." Yuffie said as she swung her arms back and forward in an attempt to convey motion without actually moving.

"Kid?"

"Dressing room, right, got to go," she babbled out quickly before heading off down the hallway. Dwight watched her, a worried frown on his face. Whatever was going on he just hoped Vincent wasn't involved too much. Vincent getting involved tended to get people dead...or at very least seemed to involve dead people.

--------000--------

Yuffie carefully creaked open the door to her dressing room, wincing at the stereotypical horror movie noise it made. She darted a hand in and flipped on the light, breathing a sigh of relief to find her room clear of any strange phenomenon. Throwing a few furtive glances at her mirror she crossed the room and sat carefully at the table. Moving as if she were diffusing a bomb she went over her makeup, checking it for tampering while at the same time attempting to arrange the jumbled mess into a semblance of neatness.

She threw the pin away.

Feeling slightly better but still a bit paranoid Yuffie carefully went over her wigs and costumes. The hairpieces were fine.

The costumes were not.

Yuffie pulled four pins out of the dresses. Four pins that she probably wouldn't have normally noticed if she hadn't been searching every square inch of the fabric. They wouldn't have actually hurt her, probably. They just would have made for a very unpleasant night as she kept being poked and scratched and no doubt fidgeted the night away trying to figure out what was wrong with her dresses.

So, uncomfortable, but not dangerous. Therefore it may have just been a not very practical, practical joke.

Yuffie snapped her fingers as another thought occurred to her. The pins had probably been left in the costumes after her last fitting. Of course, that was it. Relieved Yuffie completely ignored the fact that she'd had no problems with her costumes during the dress rehearsal and all of her fittings had been completed by then.

SCENE 2

Ophelia gave her brother Laertes a hug, clearly missing him already.

"Farewell, Ophelia, and remember well what I have said to you."

"Tis in my memory locked, and you yourself shall keep the key of it," she reassured him.

Laertes reached out to give her shoulder a brotherly squeeze. "Farewell."

Their father, who had been watching the conversation between the two siblings rested his hands on his young daughters shoulders and ask her "What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you?"

Ophelia looked back at him with a slight smile on her face. "So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet."

Her father, Polonius shook his head. "Marry, well bethought! 'Tis told me he hath very oft of late given private time to you, and you yourself have of your audience been most free and bounteous. If it be so - as so 'tis put on me, and that in way of caution - I must tell you, you do not understand yourself so clearly as it behoves my daughter and your honour."

He looked at her as if he could pierce through her body to know the secrets of her soul. "What is between you? Give me up the truth."

Ophelia spoke with care. "He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders of his affection to me.

Polonius moved away from her, clearly upset. "Affection? Pooh! You speak like a green girl, unsifted in such perilous circumstance." Her father shook his head again at her nativity. "Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?" He asked his voice incredulous.

"I do not know, my lord, what I should think," the girl said, clearly upset now.

"Marry, I will teach you. Think yourself a baby that you have ta'en these tenders for true pay which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly or...not to crack the wind of the poor phrase, running it thus...you'll tender me a fool."

"My lord," Ophelia almost cried out the words, desperation and a touch of defiance in her speech. "He hath importuned me with love in honourable fashion."

"Ay, fashion you may call it. Go to, go to.

"And hath given countenance to his speech my lord, with almost all the holy vows of heaven."

As the scene played out the girls father would hear nothing of her pleas and he would wrest from her a promise despite the breaking of her heart to distance herself from the Lord Hamlet.

It was a good thing it was a play as most of the women and no few of the men had a serious desire to give Polonius an old fashioned whack up the side of the head and introduce Ophelia to something called women's lib.

SCENE 3

Yuffie headed back to her dressing room to calm down for a moment or two before she would be needed for her scene explaining to her father about Hamlet's sudden attack of insanity.

She never could understand why everyone was so surprised that the prince had seemed to go slightly mad. Given what had recently been happening in his life many stronger men might have done more than just feigned madness.

Yuffie let such thoughts pinball through her mind as she bounced down the corridor completely jazzed at having just been in front of an audience and actually made them believe that she was someone else, someone she wasn't.

Darkness caught at the edge of her eye as something twisted in on itself before vanishing from view. Something that had for a moment seemed to be both real and yet somehow formless as it faded into the shadows that spilled down the concrete and steel staircase that led up to the second level. Yuffie was up it in a flash, determined this time to catch whoever it was that was lurking around leaving dangerous and annoying little mementos about and completely forgetting her vow to avoid the second level for the foreseeable future.

The upper hallway proved to be empty and shuttered. Even the doors to the various departments, wardrobe, props, etc. were closed. Their bits and pieces were already arranged for the night and no one would likely need to be up here until after the play ended.

Yuffie tried a couple of the doors just in case but found them either locked or the rooms behind them empty of anything living. With a little shrug and a small amount of wondering if she had just been jumping at shadows Yuffie headed back down. She was on the third step from the top when she felt something cut across her ankle. She lost her balance and gravity attempted to pull her down the stairs the fast, hard way. She twisted her body towards the hand rail hoping to grab it while at the same time she pin wheeled her arms, fighting the fall. If she had been in street clothes she might have managed to save herself but the heavy gown she wore for her role allowed her little free movement and she went flying, head first down the stairs.

She clenched her eyes shut, expecting to make a very sudden and painful stop at the bottom. Instead she hit something much softer than the concrete pad at the base of the stairs; something that wrapped its arms around her as it stopped her forward motion. She shuddered slightly then opened her eyes to stare up into the deepest pair of red eyes she had ever seen. She'd never until that moment considered red to be a very sexy eye colour.

The man who'd caught her was about six feet tall and a few years older than her. Long black hair framed a pale porcelain completion that most women would have at least considered selling their souls for. A black suit covered a slim but obviously solid frame. Very solid, given how he had caught her and still remained standing when most men would have been hard pressed to keep their balance. Actually it was very surprising that they weren't both lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs instead of standing there together with his arms wrapped around her.

Not that she was complaining, mind you.

"Ummm, hi?"

Her dark and handsome saviour gave her a minimal smile that still somehow managed to travel through her body and attempted to melt her stockings.

"Hi, me is Yuffie...I mean Yuffie is me." Why didn't the earth ever swallow you up at opportune moments?

"I would be Vincent," he replied, once again smiling that almost non-existent smile.

Yuffie nodded at him. "Vincent good," she kept nodding like a bobble head doll until her mind caught up with the situation.

"Wait a minute you shouldn't be back here," she said, pushing away from him slightly without actually leaving his arms.

He looked at her quizzically then made sure that she was firmly set on her feet before letting her go.

"And where should I be if not here?"

"Uhhhh."

Yuffie shook her head to try and clear the mind numbing effects Vincent seemed to be having on her.

"Only the cast and crew should be back here, unless you're a guest of the management?"

"No not a guest exactly," he said amusing himself with the annoyed expression that was slowly spreading its way across Yuffie's face.

"I'm actually with the theatre," he told her.

Yuffie looked at him like he had suddenly sprouted a third eye. "Since when?"

Vincent leaned up against the nearest wall. "For quite a while now, unfortunately I haven't been able to do more than the occasional bit part since the accident." His attention seemed to be caught by the black leather glove that Yuffie only now noticed on his left hand.

"Ummm?"

Another slight smile from Vincent. "Car accident, I spent a good while flat on my back after it. One of these days I hope to be able to fully return to acting but until then the management has been happy to let me watch a few rehearsals from the stalls and a few plays from the wings. Either way I'm glad I was here to catch you, a fall like that could have been a career ender."

Yuffie shuddered slightly at the thought.

"And I think your cue will be coming up shortly."

"What?" Yuffie gave a startled look off towards the stage. "Uh, sorry, got to go." She gathered her skirts and took off down the hall.

Vincent almost smiled again at the retreating figure, knowing she would have lots of time to make her cue. He frowned suddenly, his attention diverted to the top of the stairs. He crept up the treads slowly, eyes wide as he studied each step. It wasn't until he reached the third one from the top that he found two pieces of what appeared to be fishing line, one on each side of the step, as if it had been one piece that had been snapped in two. The ends had actually been tied to bolts that had been screwed tightly into the sides of the stairwell.

It didn't seem likely that Yuffie would have missed it on her way up so someone must have set it up while she was checking the rooms. He himself hadn't been here yet, his attention having been caught up with the scene between Hamlet and his father's ghost.

Damn fine time for him to suddenly take interest in this play again... Not.

--------000--------

Yuffie kept half an ear on the Queen's explanation of Ophelia's sudden death as she headed back to her dressing room. "The poor girl doesn't even get to die on stage," she said quietly to herself with a shake of her head.

"It wouldn't have worked," said a voice behind her.

Whirling, her heart half way to her throat Yuffie breathed a sigh of relief when she realized that it was just Vincent.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people like that," she told him in a stage whisper.

His lips curved up slightly in that almost smile of his.

Her forehead crinkled up in a little frown. "What?"

"I get that a lot."

She rolled her eyes but let it go. "What do you mean it wouldn't have worked?"

"Well it's always difficult to do water on stage and she did drown and besides the Queen is lying. If Ophelia had really died the way she said she did then there might have been a chance to call for help and save her. However, if she simple threw herself into the water with every intention of killing herself it would have been over fairly quickly."

Yuffie nodded, she'd always thought that it would have been interesting to play Ophelia's death out as it had been described, but the Queen tended to twist facts in an attempt to protect people. She had done the same for Hamlet earlier, when he had killed Polonius. Her words attempted to blame it on madness and misunderstanding and she proclaimed her sons regret at the incident when really he had only been upset that it hadn't been the king and had appeared generally amused by the whole thing.

"Do you have to play a corpse later or are they doing a closed casket for the graveyard scene?"

"Closed thank goodness, I'm not sure I could survive the entire scene without moving."

Vincent snorted slightly and Yuffie gave him a questioning glance.

"I always used to find playing dead to be one of the hardest things to do."

Yuffie's questioning glance narrowed a little. That didn't really make sense. There was something about Vincent, something very still, as if he could pick a position and hold it until he became dusty.

Vincent seemed to read her mind and he gave her a little bow. "The accident changed that, spend long enough not being able to move and stillness becomes almost second nature."

"Oh," she said, not really sure how to reply.

The sound of two gravediggers plying their trade travelled down the corridor from the stage. Vincent looked off in that direction, his expression slightly uncomfortable.

"I believe that I am going to go watch the scene," he told her. "However, I was wondering...if you would be interested in joining me for a late dinner after you're done here?"

Yuffie looked a little startled. It wasn't that she wasn't good looking herself but men who looked like Vincent just didn't seem to go for pixyish and it generally wasn't a good idea to date a man who was significantly better looking than you. Her last boyfriend had been better looking then her and that had ended...badly.

Of course who said it was a date. It was just a dinner, something quick and casual.

"Ok, but I'm buying," she told him.

He started to protest but she held up a hand to quiet him. "It's the least I can do for someone who saved me from serious injury... or worse."

He still didn't look particularly happy about it but he gave a nod and they quickly made plans for him to be waiting by her dressing room after the final curtain.

And Vincent was still in time for most of the graveyard scene.

SCENE 4

Hamlet and Horatio, walking side by side were brought up short by the strange combination of a grave digger singing happily as he performed his job.

They stopped to make comments about the fellows seeming indifference to the grimness of his job and to make guesses as to who the people who's bones and skulls that were dug out of the overfilled earth may have been.

Finally Hamlet asked the man who the new grave belonged to.

"Mine, sir." Was the brief reply the man made before continuing to dig and sing.

Hamlet shook his head with no little amusement. "I think it be thine indeed, for thou liest in't."

The gravedigger gave a little snort. "You lie out on't, sir, and therefore 'tis not yours." He told him with much conviction. "For my part, I do not lie in't, and yet it is mine."

"Thou dost lie in't, to be in't and say 'tis thine. "Tis for the dead, not for the quick: therefore thou liest."

The gravedigger smirked up at the young prince. "'Tis a quick lie, sir, 'twill away again from me to you."

"What man dost thou dig it for?"

"For no man, sir."

A little sigh, "What woman then?"

"For none neither."

Appearing something between perplexed and concussed Hamlet asked, "Who is to be buried in't?"

"One that was a woman, sir; but rest her soul, she's dead."

Vincent turned away from the scene, deciding to leave before they managed to drag poor Yorik out. Besides he could already feel the tendrils of a whopper of a headache tightening around his skull. His time would be better spent keeping an eye on Yuffie. Even though the end of the play wasn't very far away she struck him as the type that could find trouble in the safest of places in the shortest of times.

With one more glance back at Hamlet being made the fool of by the scene's clown he headed quietly away from the stage and picking out a shadowy corner that seemed to be made just for him he settled down to watch and wait.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Still don't own it. For full disclaimer please see Act 1

And In This Dream...

By Colleen

ACT 4

SCENE 1

The final curtain had come and the play was an obvious hit. Congratulations had been given, costumes and been taken off and hung up and makeup had been removed but still Yuffie didn't move from her dressing room.

It wasn't a date; she knew it wasn't a date. She had just met him so it was just dinner, one that she was going to pay for even and yet...

Her hair wouldn't sit right after all that time in a wig and while there was nothing wrong with her clothes she found herself wishing she had worn something a little more sophisticated. Should she do more than a little lipstick and mascara?

Oh, no of course it wasn't a date.

Vincent, wearing his red trench coat over his black suit stood outside Yuffie's dressing room. Despite an almost superhuman level of patience if he'd had a wristwatch he would have been looking at it by this point as he was starting to get a little concerned over the length of time it was taking her to get ready. His mind flashed to another opening night and him walking in on Lucile while she was in the middle of changing. He smiled at the thought but it was a sad smile and walking in on Yuffie would probably get him more than just a shoulder swat. Even though she hadn't shown it yet Vincent suspected that the little actress had a temper, although that wasn't really surprising as the best ones usually did.

He'd finally decided on knocking when the door opened suddenly and Yuffie stood there, looking slightly uncertain and wholly beautiful. Vincent blinked a couple of times at the thought before shaking it off to give the lady a little bow and offer her his arm.

He swore he would never stop doing that for women, not because he was a gentleman, which he was, but because in this day and age it both startled and flattered them. The one was amusing and the other was exactly as planned.

Yuffie's cheeks took on a slightly pink cast as she closed and locked her dressing room door before sliding her arm into his.

"So," he asked her as they made their way to the door. "Where would you like to go?"

"Well, there's this little Japanese place I like a couple of blocks down. The food's good and the place is quiet," she told him.

He nodded his acceptance as he allowed her to guide their steps in the direction of the restaurant.

The place was really very nice. The dinners sat at booths thankfully and not on the floor. Each booth was high backed to allow for privacy and groups of twos and fours conversed quietly while waitresses in kimonos moved around the space bringing extra pots of tea and second servings of rice.

Vincent didn't really know much about Japanese food and admitted as much to Yuffie so he allowed her to order for both of them. She decided to go easy on him and went for teriyaki steak for the two of them. The beef meal was probably the safest thing to buy for someone who had never eaten raw fish. She would just have to work him up to it.

Of course that assumed that there would be other dinners out together.

Vincent wondered why Yuffie suddenly blushed but didn't ask. They talked about the play and how it went and the few technical problems that had occurred until the food arrived.

Yuffie prepared to smirk as she watched Vincent pick up his chopsticks, then her jaw dropped open as he deftly picked up slices of beef and piled them on top of his bowl of rice.

He looked a question at her and followed by voicing it. "What?"

"I thought you said you'd never had Japanese food before," she said, waving her hand towards his chopsticks.

He glanced down at the sticks and was still for a moment, well, stiller than usual. "Japanese, no, Wutai, yes."

"Oh," Yuffie was a little surprised, most people tended to lump Asian foods together even when they really were quite different.

Vincent arranged his food a little more and gave her that minimal smile that seemed to do strange things to her. "Aren't you going to eat?"

Yuffie started a little but quickly piled some food up with her chopsticks and dug in. She came up for air about half way into her meal and looked up to see Vincent watching her with amusement.

"It's true what they say," he said, "one should never get between an actor and food."

"Hey, being someone else all night takes a lot of energy," she said in her defence.

"True."

"So, Vincent have you..." Ever been married, she thought, are you currently married, dating or gay? Do you have kids and what could you possible like about me that made you ask me out to dinner?

Oh, no she didn't have issues did she?

"Have I what?"

"Have you been skulking around theatres for very long?" Oh goodness, earth, swallow, now.

"A few years."

"Uhhhhh."

"May I ask a question?" He asked.

"Yes, yes." Oh good Yuffie, lets do the bobble head impression again.

"Is Yuffie short for something? I don't think I've ever heard the name before."

Thud.

"Yuffie?" Vincent asked, startled. The girl had done a face plant onto the table and none too gently either.

"Ah, it's okay it's just that it's a little embarrassing." She looked up and blushed; really she did look quite delightful all pink like that.

Vincent gave himself a mental thump to the head and fought to look at something other than the blush that had spread across Yuffie's cheeks.

Worried that she may have given the wrong impression she hurriedly explained. "Not really embarrassing, actually it's just stupid."

He answered with a raised eyebrow and Yuffie gave a little sigh before continuing.

"Usually I tell people that it's Wutai for butterfly but... My name is actually Efthemia." She paused a moment. "And no, my parents didn't hate me."

Vincent mulled that over for a moment. "I'm surprised that you didn't end up being called Effie."

Yuffie winced slightly. "Yeah, I probably would have been but the little brother of a friend of mine had a terrible time trying to say it. Uffie was the best that he could manage and after awhile it ended up as Yuffie. Sometimes I'm not really sure anyone remembers what my name really is, thank goodness."

"Hmm, sounds like it would make for good blackmail material."

Yuffie looked at him in shock. "Don't you even think about it."

"I don't know. It isn't every day that you learn something so...embarrassing about a person when you've just met them."

'Vincent..." Yuffie started angrily then stopped, suddenly realizing that using his full name against him wouldn't work as she didn't even know what it was.

"Vincent, what's your last name anyway?"

Vincent blinked, surprised at himself for not having properly introducing himself to her.

"It's Valentine."

Yuffie's eyes almost crossed in concentration. Something about that name seemed familiar to her and not because it was the same as a holiday in February. She gave a little shake of her head; maybe she had heard about his car accident at some point and had just forgotten.

They continued the rest of the meal, chatting off and on about plays they had been in, had seen, or were just plain interested in performing in. When the bill came Yuffie deftly snatched it from the table before Vincent could make a move on it and slid out of the booth to go pay.

"I said I was buying. If you really have to be macho about it you can leave the tip." She told him, attempting to give him some way to defend his masculinity.

Vincent gave a little shake of his head and pulled out his wallet while Yuffie bounced off to the cashier. He stood up, opened the wallet and took a deep breath before reaching in. Money was always a difficult thing to do.

Yuffie paid the check and turned back to find Vincent still standing at the table. Apparently it took him a long time to just leave a tip. She weaved forward, intending to go back to their table when he turned and walked over to her. A quick glance around him showed that there was actual folding money on the table for the waitresses tip so she decided not to worry about it. Maybe he had just been lost in thought.

"So," he asked as he came into normal conversation range, "should I call a cab for you?"

"Nah, I usually walk."

"Then I will see you home."

"What?" Yuffie winced, high squeaky panic voice was always a great way to look cool and sophisticated in front of a guy.

"It is far too late and far too dark out and I would not be a suitable..." He stalled up for a moment while searching for an appropriate word. "A suitable escort if I allowed you to walk unprotected even if the distance isn't great.

Yuffie opened her mouth to argue, and then closed it without even trying. She could already tell by facial expression and stance that trying to change Vincent's mind would be like trying to shift the Statue of Liberty off of its base.

She gave a sigh but still took the arm that was offered to her. Really it was as if the man had never even heard of women's lib and to top that off she was more than capable of looking after herself. She might not look it but she was actually a decent martial artist and pepper spray was one of the few things that she never left home without.

Issues, her? Well maybe just a few.

One of the waitresses gave them a sappy look as they headed out the door before heading to their table to clean it up. She shook her head as she noticed that the girl had consumed her meal down to the last grain of rice but the guys bowl was still full, though a bit messy as he had obviously kept stirring it up, probably to make it look like he was actually eating it.

It must be love. Most guys she knew would have bitched and complained through the entire meal if they weren't willing or able to eat it. Either that or they would have tried to order a hamburger and fries.

She bussed the table and picked up the tip, giving it a second glance before sliding it into her tip pocket.

They were some of the oldest bills she had ever seen.

SCENE 2

Ah, could there be anything better than walking down a city street on a clear crisp evening with a lovely young woman on your arm?

SCREECH. "Watch it you idiot."

"Who you calling an idiot?"

"Sigh." Ok so maybe there was nothing like walking down a city street on a clear crisp evening with a lovely young woman while listening to two taxi cab drivers have an argument about a near miss while blocking what little traffic there was at this time of night.

Horns started to honk and Vincent gritted his teeth, noticing that Yuffie didn't seem to be looking too much happier about the noise than he did.

"This way," she told him and they thankfully, gratefully turned a corner and moved away from the blaring of horns and the addition of several more angry voices.

Yuffie gave a little sigh as the night regained its silence. She thought that maybe she should try to start up a conversation with Vincent but at the moment the quiet was too nice to break so she just let it go. She had the sudden desire to snuggle into his arms as they walked but she gave herself a mental ping between the eyes, reminding herself that she HARDLY KNEW the man.

And she was letting him walk her home.

Arrggg, why didn't she just take the cab?

"Is something the matter Yuffie?"

"Matter?" She flushed slightly. "No nothings the matter." Nothing, she thought, except I can't seem to stop being paranoid.

Hmmm, let's see, past bad relationship, practical jokes, bleeding mirrors and dangerous items in my makeup, nope, no reason to be paranoid here.

She suddenly focused on their surroundings and was surprised to find that they were walking right past her building.

"Wait, stop."

Vincent paused in mid step and looked at her.

"My buildings back there." If she continued to blush like she had been all evening long she was going to pass out from blood loss to the rest of her body.

Vincent didn't seem to notice her embarrassment as he escorted her to the entrance, waiting as she unlocked the outer doors and gave him a wave once she was safely inside.

He lingered just long enough to see her get into the elevator unmolested before he turned to head for home.

Yuffie slumped against a wall of the elevator and thumped the back of her head against it a couple of times. She knew better than to get involved with someone from work but it looked like she was going to go ahead and do just that.

Of course that depended on Vincent actually being interested. It was hard to tell with him, he almost seemed to be hiding behind the mask of a gentleman. No that wasn't quite right. She was sure that he was a gentleman but she was also sure that he was using those manners to keep himself separate from other people. Being polite was good but it could also be used as a wall between you and the rest of the world. Although, given some of the world, like the taxi drivers for instance, sometimes the wall was a good thing.

The elevator dinged to a stop at her floor and suddenly tired she dragged herself down the hall to her apartment. Tomorrow, she would think about it tomorrow.

Or maybe even next week.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Not mine, sniff. For full disclaimer please see Act 1.

Authors note: Rewrites and edits... brain melting... this probably needs more done to it but I give up. Let me know if anything's really messed up and I'll fix it.

And In This Dream...

By Colleen

ACT 5

SCENE 1

The play had been running a week and they were a qualified hit. Yuffie now felt almost as comfortable in Ophelia's skin as she did in her own.

Now if the stupid practical jokes would just quit.

As predicted small items, things she used often had started to disappear, reappearing usually minutes after she had given up looking for them. Annoyingly they often reappeared in the most ridiculous of places. Her makeup brushes had ended up in with the spoons in the coffee room, she'd had to recover all of her hair pins from her costumes, each of them having been used in an attempt to pin the dresses into strange new shapes and her coffee cup kept disappearing whenever she took her eyes off of it, often reappearing exactly were it had disappeared from.

Yes the 'haunting' was moving along just as she had suspected.

The jokers had even upped the ante recently with a few fake spiders, snakes and one rat.

At least she really hoped the rat had been fake.

Still these were a minor problem compared to the other 'jokes.'

She'd pulled pins out of her wigs twice so far, discovered some kind of itching powder in one of her containers of makeup, which she'd thankfully only tried on a small part of her skin before there had been a reaction, and found the tines of her favourite comb sharpened to points that would have raked gouges into her scalp if she hadn't noticed in time. So far the only serious injury had occurred when she had cut her hand on the inner doorknob of her dressing room. A doorknob that had suddenly overnight become punctured in several places with the metal deliberately fanned out into star shaped patterns across its surface. Unpleasant as well as painful was the mild way of describing the sensation she had experienced when she went to open the door and drove the spiked metal into her hand with a twist.

Once she'd finished swearing and bandaged her hand up she draped a towel over the knob, both to hide it and to protect her hands until she was able to quietly get one of the stage carpenters to replace it with one of the many extras the theatre still had in stock.

She didn't tell anyone about it, not even Vincent whom she seemed to be spending a lot of time with, at least in the theatre. They hadn't gone out for dinner again during the week but Vincent would order food in and they had what amounted to picnics, either in her dressing room or in the green room that was used for entertaining important patrons. Then he would either call her a cab, as he did one night when the weather was retched, or he would walk her home.

She hadn't had the nerve to invite him up yet, and he didn't seem to expect to be invited.

She still wasn't sure about him. He was such a quiet man and let her do most of the talking when they were together. She suspected that by now he could write a biography of her life while she still didn't seem to know much about him.

She wasn't even sure if they were just friends or if they were working up to something more. She didn't know what he wanted and to be truthful she didn't know what she wanted either.

Still it had only been a week. She should probably just go with it and see what happened. It wasn't like there was any rush. Even if she didn't another part with the theatre for the next play this one was still going to run for some time.

The thought gave Yuffie a strange sense of foreboding and she quickly touched the closest piece of wood next to her, shaking her head a little at her actions. Even though she often thought she was being silly the young woman was just as superstitious as many older, more seasoned actors.

And even if she did feel silly, she really hoped that the good luck of touching wood would help.

SCENE 2

Raymond Palmer was God's gift to women, the theatre and the planet. Or at least he certainly thought so.

Right now he was gracing this theatre with his presence and they had been grateful, but perhaps not grateful enough. Which was why he had arrived early, so he could discuss just how much more grateful he thought management should be.

He blew past the door man, barely paying any attention to the man's nattering and breezed past a tall man with long dark hair who had just come down from the second level.

Vincent narrowed his eyes as Raymond passed him, surprised to see the actor in so early. The man was an unmitigated pain in the ass who didn't seem to have enough brain power to think beyond the surface of his own skin. However, if he had made passes at Yuffie as Dwight had said and been rebuffed he would be a likely candidate for the person who was perpetuating the hurtful and petty attacks against the young woman.

Especially as Yuffie didn't seem the type to phrase a refusal in a polite manner. Not to mention that the girl was definitely a little skittish when it came to men, probably due to her young age. Somehow he could just see her yelling out the word pervert before bonking Raymond over the head with something jagged.

Actually he'd pay good money to see that now that he'd thought of it.

He'd keep an eye on the man. Actually he would have anyway as the other actor had always rubbed him the wrong way even if he was good at what he did.

Vincent dismissed the man from his mind for the moment and entered Yuffie's dressing room. While it felt uncomfortable to be uninvited in the semi private space of a young woman, given what had happened with the door handle he wouldn't feel right if he didn't make sure that the space was safe for her.

It was only by accident that he had found out about the handle, having overheard one of the carpenters mentioning that he had changed out the doorknob in dressing room three and had wondered out loud to his fellow crewman just what the hell the young actress had been doing to it. It hadn't taken much to find the old knob in the trash and he had practically hissed at the thing, especially when he realized that it was marked with some of Yuffie's blood.

After tonight he would seek out the identity of Yuffie's stalker and make sure they were no longer a problem but for now he searched her dressing room thoroughly. Nothing seemed wrong but he dumped out the carafe of water that had been placed in the room for her use and washed it and the cups out in the crew's break room.

He wasn't sure there was anything wrong with it but something about it had felt... unpleasant. The feeling left him as soon as it was cleaned and refilled with fresh water.

Probably just his nerves but still, better safe than sorry.

He returned the pitcher and cups to the room and gave the place one last look. Briefly he considered leaving her a flower. A rose perhaps, or maybe a lily. One in the same colour of the blush that often graced her cheeks would be beautiful.

He shook the thought and image out of his head. No, that was most definitely being to forward. Just making sure that she was safe would be enough and if he had to be honest with himself it was time to accept that that was all he could do.

Nothing else was really possible.

SCENE 3

Yuffie did her normal bouncing through the back stage door a little while later. No matter how serious the events in her life got it would have been almost impossible for the girl to travel at anything that didn't involve a variation on a skip and a jump.

"Hey, old man."

"Hey yourself kid," Dwight replied, smirking as Yuffie stuck her tongue out at him.

"Seen the latest reviews yet?" He asked, waving his hand towards the theatrical weekly that sat on the stool behind him.

Yuffie nodded practically vibrating in place. "Yeah, everybody loves us and we're going to run even longer than 'Cats', casting directors want to steal us away and companies are willing to pay us millions of dollars to endorse their products."

Dwight blinked at her. "Forgot to take your meds this morning I see."

"Har de har har. No really the reviews are great, they even loved Raymond."

Dwight snorted. "Please everyone only tolerates Raymond, nobody loves him."

Yuffie coughed, choked, snort laughed at that and headed to her dressing room to get ready.

Not even good reviews could stop her from opening the door to the room carefully and it was a good thing that she had started coming in early as it took her the extra time to check over her stuff before getting ready.

SCENE 4

Ophelia sat, joining her father Polonius, the King, the Queen and Hamlet at an upcoming performance by the players.

Hamlet flopped boneless to the floor in a heap at her feet and looked up at her. "Lady, shall I lie in your lap?"

Ophelia blushed at the suggestion. "No, my lord."

Hamlet sat up on the floor. "I mean, my head upon your lap."

"Ay, my lord."

Hamlet snuggled his head against her knees. "Do you think I meant country matters?"

Ophelia answered as if knowing she walked a mine field.

"I think nothing, my lord."

"That's a fair thought to lie between maid's legs."

Ophelia looked perplexed. "What is, my lord?"

"Nothing."

The girl appeared to rally herself, attempting to put on a cheerful mien.

"You are merry, my lord."

"Who, I?"

"Ay, my lord."

"Oh God," Hamlet spoke, flinging his arms into the air, "your only jig-maker! What should a man do but be merry? For look you how cheerfully my mother looks and my father died within's two hours.

"Nay, 'tis twice two months, my lord." Ophelia told him, her voice quite startled.

As the scene played on Vincent watched from the wings, his eyes narrowed in thought and some anger. If Raymond groped that girl one more time in this scene he'd consider feeding the actor to the Thing in the Basement.

Ah, no that would hardly be fair to the Thing.

The play moved on and was joined by the play within the play. One play echoed the other and the King's villainy was known for certain by Hamlet.

Yuffie, as Ophelia finally exited the stage, joining Vincent at his vantage point. He gave her a slight nod and she smiled at him before they both turned their attention back to the stage.

The play continued, Hamlet getting the verbal better of friends untrue and Ophelia's father Polonius. Vincent wondered slightly at Raymond's ability to twist people around a knot on stage when he was about as witty as a sandbag off.

He'd probably be terrible at improv.

Vincent winced slightly, the start of a Hamlet headache suddenly piercing his right temple. He wouldn't want to watch much more but he decided that he would wait until Yuffie left. It shouldn't be too long. Even though she wasn't in a scene until the next act she would have to change and would probably need some time to psych herself up for Ophelia's drastic change of personality.

"What wilt thou do?" The Queen called out, pulling Vincent's attention back to the play. "Thou wilt not murder me? Help, ho!"

A male voice behind the scenes tapestry called out as well. "What ho! Help!."

Hamlet brandished his sword and leapt, point forward towards a suspicious lump under the hanging cloth. "How now? A rat! Dead for a ducat, dead."

SNAAAPPPPP!!!

Vincent felt Yuffie jump, he in fact did so himself as did every man and woman on or near the stage and every man and woman in the first few rows of the audience.

Vincent had never heard that strange spot on the stage do that without someone stepping on it before and never so loudly.

Polonius gave out a gurgle and slid down the wall, still hidden by the tapestry, completely missing his mark as well as his dying line. Hamlet backed away, a look of sick horror on his face.

The sword was still in the wall hanging, although it was angled strangely, having been pulled that way by the actor who played Polonius as he sank to the floor.

The sword in other words was still in Polonius.

The sword should never have actually been in Polonius. Red started to pool at the bottom of the tapestry.

"Damn it man, curtains," the Queen yelled out before shoving Raymond out of her way. She reached Nelson Potts the actor playing Polonius and moved the tapestry aside as much as she could without disturbing the sword.

More actors and crew raced onto the stage. Yuffie would have joined them but Vincent grabbed her, stopping her before she could add to the general confusion.

"We'll just make it worse if we go out there," he yelled to her over the noise of equal parts on stage panic and audience panic. She nodded and turned, heading backstage.

Yuffie grabbed the first panicking crewman they came across and sent him off to call 911. Their second panicking person was an extra who was both pale and just shaky enough that she appeared to be vibrating in place. Yuffie sent her to keep Dwight company at the stage door, mostly so Dwight could keep an eye on her in case she passed out. As the two of them continued to move back stage she suggested to Vincent that they themselves should go make sure that the manager had been informed about what had happened.

Vincent nodded in agreement impressed at how calm and collected she was, that state a definite contrast to her usual hyper persona. They'd managed to work their way back to the last of the dressing rooms when the voice of his old friend Aaron Talley cut through the noise of the audience to inform them that there had been an accident and asked for calm and if there was a doctor in the house.

Vincent put a hand on Yuffie's shoulder and turned her back towards the stage. "It appears that the manager already knows." She cocked her head towards the auditorium listening as Aaron took control of the situation than tiled her head the other way as even through the brick and concrete of the theatre's walls she could hear the sirens off in the distance, getting closer.

After that there was even more confusion. Police attempted to corral the cast and crew on the stage while the paramedics cut away tapestry and costume to get a better look at the wound before stabilizing Nelson and the sword as much as possible. Not wanting to try to remove the piece of steel without a surgical team handy they loaded the moaning actor onto a stretcher and got him out of there. You could see the audience wince away from the injured man as the ambulance crew made their way down the aisle and everyone was glad when the police started to take names and addresses before sending the theatre's patrons home. The cast and crew were moved off stage and quickly split up, the crew ending up in their break room while the cast managed to scatter in the general confusion and hide out in their dressing rooms.

The manager gave his office over to the police and was not surprised when the arriving detective's first request was to talk to Raymond.

As he was neither technically cast nor crew Yuffie had dragged Vincent to her dressing room. Currently he was waiting outside of it, giving her the chance to change out of her heavy costume and into her street clothes.

The cops seemed to take no notice of him but Dwight, who was still posted at the back stage door with an extra officer to 'help', had noticed him and sent him a questioning look. Vincent shrugged minimally, truly at a loss as to what was going on in the building. It wasn't a state of being he was use to or particularly happy about.

In the managers office other people weren't very happy either, but for generally different reasons.

SCENE 5

While Raymond had appeared truly horrified by what had happened the shock had obviously worn off between the stage and the manager's office. He sat in one of the comfortable chairs, expression huffy as he waited for the detectives to return from where ever it was that they'd suddenly been called away to.

He was going to have a bit of a wait.

Justin Wilder was a very good detective and not a bad looking one either. At five foot eleven he was tall enough to be imposing when he wanted to be yet could come across as harmless when he needed to. He had sandy blonde hair that he kept just a little longer than the rookies in uniform did and medium blue eyes set in a slightly suntanned face that said he liked to get outdoors from time to time.

It was therefore not surprising that he had the lean figure of a man who spent his free time on a bicycle whenever he could.

His partner Dominic Spencer was a little different. While he was pleasant enough to look at his six feet and four inches of height meant he would forever be cursed to play the bad cop to Justine's more laid back good cop. Shaggy brown hair topped off a comfortable looking face set on a thick neck and balanced on wide shoulders that strained the fabric of just about every suit Dom had ever owned. Sleepy brown eyes missed little, especially since most people assumed from his expression that he wasn't really paying attention when actually he noticed everything.

You could learn a lot from people who weren't being careful around you.

Right now the two of them were trying to keep the stream of audience members being released from the building at a steady flow while using the time to let their first interview sweat a little. It also gave them the chance to pump the manager for as much information on the situation as possible.

"Alright let me see if I have this right Mr. Talley," Justin said as he kept an eye on the lines of people heading out of the building.

"The sword that Mr. Palmer usually uses is supposed to have a knobbly end on it and even if it were to fall off the weapon is so blunted that it still shouldn't have been able to do more than bruise Mr. Potts."

Talley nodded and gave a slight grunt of acknowledgement. The man shifted his weigh slightly and ran his hand through a blond and grey mix of hair as if surreptitiously attempting to rub away a headache. "Nelson also wears a bit of padding under his costume for the scene, even being hit by the knob can be a bit uncomfortable if Raymond gets worked up." The manager looked up slightly into the detectives face. "All it's good for is softening the blow; it wouldn't be able to stand up to something piercing it.

"Does Palmer wear the sword during the whole play?"

"Usually." the manager said nodding.

"Usually?"

"I've seen him take it off a time or two in rehearsal when he was still getting use to it or when something was wrong with the belt itself. However, I don't know if anything like that happened tonight."

"You weren't watching tonight?"

A short explosion of air that passed as a laugh answered the detective. "This play's going to run a long time." He looked around at the nervous audience members. "Or at least it was going to." He shook his head. "I took in the play on opening night and I've seen quite enough of it over the last few weeks in rehearsal."

"Anyone else have access to the sword?"

A little shrug. "Jimmy I guess."

"Jimmy?"

"James Ray, the prop manger."

"Is that it?"

"I don't really know, anyone could have tampered with it since the performance last night. As long is it didn't look or feel too different than the original no one other than Jimmy would have noticed and even he might not have. If it was changed just before Raymond's dresser picked it up than no one but him or Raymond would have noticed and even then I wouldn't expect them too."

"We're going to have to search the theatre, see if we can't find the original sword."

"Of course."

"Palmer have any reason to hate Potts?"

"Hate him; I don't think he even noticed him. Raymond... Raymond doesn't really notice anything much as long as it doesn't get in the way of his being the star."

Wilder nodded, thinking about just how much not fun his upcoming interview with the actor was going to be. "We're going to need a list of everyone who works here, even if they weren't in the building tonight."

Aaron nodded. "My secretary can get that for you in the morning or I can check the files while you start your interviews. I can't promise it will be any faster than waiting for my secretary tomorrow."

Somehow the detective doubted that, there was something about Aaron Talley that led him to believe that the man never knew less than everything about who worked for him. He suspected that if the details were not ready to hand than certainly they were ready to mind.

"I'd like it tonight if you can."

The manager nodded. "Well then if you can have one of your officers escort me to my secretary's office I'll see what I can do."

Spencer, who hadn't said a word during the whole conversation suddenly waived over an officer and sent him off with the manager to get their information.

"Shall we?" Spencer asked, his voice a comfortable rumble that matched his exterior.

Wilder nodded and they headed off to what would likely be a very long night of interviews, even longer if the actors started asking for lawyers. Although if that happened they'd just round up the ones that wanted legal and ship them downtown to be dealt with once they were done here. It would probably take that long for their lawyers to show up anyway.

"Well, lets get this started."

Author's note: Honest to goodness the 'I love Raymond' joke was actually an accident, one that I decided to leave in since it also made me snort laugh when I realized what I'd done.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Don't own it. For full disclaimer and other info please see Chapter One.

And in this Dream...

By Colleen

ACT 6

SCENE 1

On their way to interview Raymond Palmer, Detective Wilder grabbed a couple of uniforms and sent them to round up the cast members from their dressing rooms and deposit them in the green room. Since they had the manager's permission to search the building, it would be better to do so with the dressing rooms empty, rather than to have to fight with each actor when they tried to search their space.

The actors were shifted with a fair bit of grumbling, but nothing like what would have occurred if they had seen police officers rummaging through their things.

The officers were told to be neat. Since the only thing they had asked to search for was the prop sword, they kept their search to places that would be large enough to hold it. They didn't want to lose evidence to some actor managing to convince a judge that they had been searching illegally. Although they did have permission from management, things like dressing rooms could get a little iffy when it came to search and seizure rules.

Yuffie gave a little sigh as she sat wedged in-between two extras. Somewhere along the way she'd lost Vincent. One minute she was sure he was behind her and the next she had been entering the green room with only the escorting officer. The fact that the officer didn't seem concerned led her to believe that Vincent had been pulled aside for questioning.

That thought made her skin crawl, but she guessed it made sense. He was the only person back stage that didn't have any place specific to be during the play. He could have wandered anywhere, seen anything... done anything.

No, she shook the thought out of her head. She wasn't going to start thinking things like that and besides, she would be being questioned soon enough herself.

SCENE 2

You would think that a six foot tall man, in a black suit, with long black hair and the face of a Raphael angel would have a difficult time being ignored. And yet, Vincent still managed it. He had followed Yuffie and the officer for only a short ways, before he slid a step sideways and more or less disappeared from sight and mind.

Yuffie, he knew, would be safe with the officer and even safer once she was in a crowd of her fellow actors.

Vincent moved through the building like a shadow, graceful, flowing and completely ignored by the milling officers. He headed for the manager's office, but passed it by when he heard the quiet counterpoint of the police detective's voice to the overbearing tones of the theatre's leading man. He headed further down the hall, figuring that if Aaron wasn't in his own office he may be in his assistants. The police officer keeping watch outside that room seemed to verify this and Vincent waited until the man's attention was pulled to the main office by a louder than usual exclamation from Raymond, before he slipped past him and into the room.

Vincent watched for a moment as his old friend worked at his secretary's desk, pulling out files from a number of drawers while consulting a computer placed prominently on the desk.

"Aaron."

Not surprisingly, Aaron jumped slightly.

"Vincent?" He said, perhaps a little too loudly. He gave a quick look towards the door, to make sure that the officer on the other side of it hadn't heard him before continuing on in a quieter voice.

"What are you doing here?" A slight frown marred his face.

Vincent leaned up against the wall next to the door. "I thought I should warn you that I was around."

"Anyone else know you're here?" Talley asked, his voice still low as he walked around the desk and leaned back against it, giving his friend his full attention.

Vincent hesitated a bare moment. Most people might not have even caught it, but Aaron had known Vincent too long to miss something like that. "Well?"

"The new girl, Yuffie. She's seen me around and I was standing next to her when it happened." Vincent paused a moment. "I stopped her from joining the mob on the stage." Another pause. "Dwight knows I'm here as well."

Aaron dismissed the doorman's involvement with a wave of his hand. "I doubt Dwight would offer the police any information about you, unless he had no choice. Yuffie..."

If she had been in actual physical contact with Vincent, then she would probably mention him to the police. Especially if he had been beside her when the 'accident' had occurred.

"I told her the usual story about why I was wandering around the theatre, so even if she tells the police about me, I don't think it will be a problem."

Aaron nodded and realized that he had better add Vincent to the current list of employees, so it wouldn't look suspicious if, or more likely when, Yuffie mentioned him.

Vincent gave him a nod back and turned to go. "Vincent." Aaron's voice stopped him with his hand on the door knob. "I don't like to pry, but why are you here now? I know how much trouble you have with Hamlet."

"At first I was just interested to see how the new Ophelia would be," Vincent said, not looking back towards his friend, "and then I was just interested in her." Vincent turned the knob and left the room.

Aaron stared at the door for a few moments, before letting out a pent up breath and shaking his head.

"It's about time."

SCENE 3

Detective Justin Wilder fought to keep his eyes from rolling, as leading man Raymond Palmer went over the events of the night.

It was amazing that the man was able to go to the bathroom by himself, given how much of his night had apparently been spent keeping his personal assistant/dresser busy. The detective was beginning to doubt that Palmer would have been able to switch the weapons, not because he wouldn't have had the time or the opportunity, but because he probably would have sent his assistant to do it for him.

Actually, now that he thought about it, he had better schedule the assistant for an interview tonight. He couldn't dismiss the possibility that Raymond hadn't done exactly that.

His partner, Dom, had gone to collect Mr. Talley and see if he didn't have a set of names for them. If he did they could start connecting people to addresses and maybe set up appointments for interviews in the next couple of days, so they could clear out the theatre and lock it down for a better search.

Palmer was just starting to sputter indignantly again; he seemed to run a fairly predictable range of emotions timed to ten minute intervals, when Dom returned with both the manager and the information.

Wilder held up a hand to stop Raymond before he could really get going. "Mr. Palmer, I realize it's late, so I would like to propose that I send you home and have you come into the station tomorrow to give us your official statement or," Justin paused a moment as he noticed that Palmer looked like he was about to blow up in a very messy manner, "or we can go down to the station tonight, although it may be several hours before we're done here.

Raymond Palmer deflated, although he still looked quite annoyed.

"Very well detective, I will see you tomorrow." He looked over at Aaron Talley. "We will be performing tomorrow, won't we?"

Talley opened his mouth to answer, but Detective Wilder beat him to it. "I don't think that will be very likely. However, we may be able to let you get back to business in a day or two."

"For God's sakes man it's not like he died and besides it was just a stupid accident."

With that statement Raymond firmly entered himself into the Detective's mental list of assholes they'd rather not have to deal with. If he kept things up, he might eventually make their list of assholes that needed to be taken down, hard.

They could only hope.

"No, he didn't die, but we don't know what's happening at the hospital yet and while I hope Mr. Potts is able to make a full recovery, what we have may be more than an accident. If that's all it was I would be overjoyed, but it is very possible, even likely, that this will be ruled an attempted murder at the very least."

Raymond Palmer's mouth opened and closed, the actor finally at a loss for words. When he finally did speak, it was the four words the detective had been expecting to hear sometime ago.

"I want my lawyer."

"Have him join you at the station tomorrow."

Detective Wilder threw his partner a quick look and Dom stuck his head out of the room, nabbing a uniformed officer to see Mr. Palmer out of the theatre.

The actor staged a masterful scene as he left. Somehow managing to stalk, stomp and schlep out of the room all at the same time.

"Ever consider being an actor Detective Wilder?"

Justin smiled ruefully at Aaron Talley and shook his head. "Nope, always wanted to be a cop."

The manager laughed slightly at that and held out the promised list of employees.

Detective Wilder took the list and gave it a quick flip through before handing it off to his partner.

"We should double check everyone's information and than let them go. We can set up interviews as we need..." A knock at the door interrupted the investigator and Dom opened it to an officer holding what had to be the original prop sword.

"Where was it?"

"In dressing room three, sir."

Dom and Justin both looked to the manager.

"That would be Yuffie's room," he said, obviously a little shocked. "Yuffie Kisaragi, but she couldn't have anything to do with this."

"Known her a long time, have you?" Detective Spencer asked in the rumble that passed for his voice.

Talley hesitated slightly. "Actually, this is the first production she's done with us."

"Hmmm, looks like Ms. Kisaragi just got herself to the top of the interview list." Dom nodded to his partner and headed out to track her down.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Ah, you know Yuffie and Vincent aren't mine. For full disclaimer please see Act 1.

And in this Dream...

By Colleen

ACT 7

SCENE 1

Yuffie walked nervously next to the big bear of a detective that had come to escort her to her interview. She didn't know why they had called her next, but wished they had taken Rosella first. When the police detective had called Yuffie's name the other actress, who was still in her Queen costume had managed to look both regal and demonic while attempting to burn holes of pure malice through Yuffie's body with her eyes. Rosella was not one to suffer second billing, even during a police investigation.

When Yuffie got to the manager's office, she was enormously relived to see Mr. Talley present. She took a seat when it was offered and twisted her hands together while she waited for the first questions from the sandy haired, somewhat cute detective, who had been waiting in the room with the manager.

"Ms. Kisaragi," Detective Wilder asked, in a calm manner that was obviously meant to sooth nervous suspects, "I was wondering if you could tell us everything you did from the time you arrived tonight, up until Mr. Potts was wounded?" He smiled at her, bringing her first estimation of his looks up from somewhat cute, to definitely cute. "And please, don't leave anything out, no matter how unimportant it may seem."

Yuffie centred herself, mentally squaring herself to the scene as it were. "I came in around five thirty. I talked to Dwight about the reviews and than headed to my dressing room." Yuffie hesitated here and Justin sent a glace in Dom's direction before prompting the actress.

"Ms. Kisaragi?"

"Ummm, oh darn this is embarrassing." She said, looking slightly flushed. "I searched my room and checked over my makeup, costumes and wigs, before getting made up and changed."

Justin blinked for a moment, looking at the still embarrassed young lady. He shot a look over to the manager and was surprised to see him frowning in a way that suggested he knew exactly why the young woman had done such a strange thing before the start of the play.

"And, exactly why did you do that?"

"Ah, well you see..." Yuffie twisted her hands up into increasingly more and more painful looking positions before continuing. "I'm sure it isn't anything, but I am the new person on the scene and well..."

And then, the detective got it.

"And you've had a few whoopee cushions on your chair, dribble glasses with your water, things like that."

Yuffie nodded, relieved that she might escape from describing exactly what had been happening. "Yes, something like that."

Wilder noticed the manager watching her, his eyes still narrowed in thought, and the detective suspected that whatever the practical jokes were, they might be a bit more serious than the girl was letting on.

He decided to let it go for the moment; he could always question her about it in depth later.

"So, what did you do next?"

"I got made up, got dressed and well, sort of meditated, until it was time for me to go on stage.

"So you were in your dressing room from the moment you got here, until your first cue?"

Yuffie nodded, "Yup."

"And in between your times on stage?"

"I either went back to my dressing room or watched from the wings, depending on how much time I had."

The detective nodded and decided to go for a shock moment. "So when you checked your room, did you happen to come across a sword?"

Yuffie looked at him a little surprised. "Ah, no, do you want me to go take another look?"

The offer seemed to floor the detectives and the manager made a strange hacking sound that took Yuffie a couple of seconds to recognize as someone trying not to laugh and losing.

"Actually, we've already found it." Yuffie looked up at him expectantly. "In your closet."

A frown of concentration twisted Yuffie's face for a moment. "It wasn't in there when I got here, I checked the closet." She looked up at the detective again, the penny finally dropping. "It's Hamlet's sword isn't it? The one that Raymond should have been carrying."

The detective nodded. "Yes, and we would very much like to know how it got into your closet."

Yuffie rubbed her hands along her arms, suddenly cold. "So would I." Was her answer, one that further surprised the detectives.

"Ms. Kisaragi, do you mean to tell us that you really don't know how that sword got into your closet?"

"Of course, that's exactly what I'm saying." Yuffie replied, her voice a little angry. "I wouldn't have taken it. I mean, why would I even want to touch Raymond's sword?" Yuffie stopped talking, her mouth hanging open as she realized just how that line could be taken. "Oh, grossness."

The manager didn't even try not to laugh.

SCENE 2

Vincent thought that it was probably time to have a chat with the Thing in the Basement. If the police were going to be traipsing around the building for the next day or two, then it would be a good idea if Thing kept a low profile and didn't introduce itself to anyone who might come down to search the lower levels.

No one, not even Vincent, knew exactly what the Thing in the Basement really was. Vincent suspected that even Thing didn't know for sure what it was, which would explain why it changed shape and personalities monthly. He just hoped it was over its Phantom of the Opera phase.

Theatres tend to have many layers; the surface that the patron sees is much like the tip of an iceberg. And these layers tend to be filled with stuff. Props, equipment, flats. You could find just about anything in the theatre's basement and that was only a portion of what was owned, as the Marionette also used a warehouse in one of the industrial areas that was filled to the brim with further, useful items. Items that were all carefully catalogued and stored for mostly easy retrieval.

Having taken the long way down, Vincent finally weaved his way through the accumulated junk of theatre life as he arrived at the lowest level of the theatre. He moved cautiously, not exactly sure what the Thing in the Basement was currently masquerading as.

He wasn't cautious enough.

Something slimed its way across one of his boots, but was gone before he could see what it was. A touch to a shoulder had him spinning around, but still, there was nothing there. He took a step back as a sense of dark foreboding seemed to well up from the centre of the cavernous room.

"Thing?"

Tentacles shot out of seemingly nowhere, wrapping themselves around his arms, ankles and torso. They lifted and pulled him towards the centre of the room where he could finally see something, something that was a little like a giant octopus, a little like a giant squid, but somehow didn't look like either of those two things. Somehow, whatever it was, defied any human attempt to really describe it.

"You've been reading Lovecraft again, haven't you?"

The tentacles drooped a little at the question and the many arms deposited Vincent on his feet, before letting him go.

"One of these days, I am going to scare you," a voice told him, one that seemed to be pulled from the four corners of the theatre to well up in the centre of the room.

Vincent lips almost quirked up in a small smile. He quashed it, not wanting to let on to Thing that he had pretty much managed that a few months ago when he had appeared as that square sponge thing. Of course, the purple dinosaur a few years back had been pretty bad as well. Vincent just hoped that Thing would never discover the existence of Martha Stewart. He was pretty sure that even he'd run screaming from the building if that were to ever happen.

No, that wouldn't be a good thing.

SCENE 3

Talley quickly got a hold on his humour. Even though he thought that the current questioning and suspicion of Yuffie was funny, the overall situation that had created it wasn't. When they finished up here he was going to annoy the inspectors until they got him some information about what was happening with Nelson.

The shorter of the two detectives, which, given the size of both of them, wasn't making much of a distinction, was glaring at him for the laughing fit with near murderous intent. Aaron just smirked back at him. He had been glared at by professionals and while Detective Wilder's attempt was a good one, it still lacked the pure menace Vincent could convey, even when the man was only just a little put off, never mind actually angry. The detective's eyes flickered over to his partner and Talley's view was suddenly taken up by the shaggy haired mountain of a man. Aaron shook his head slightly, Wilder's glare might leave something to be desired, but the way he and his partner almost seemed to communicate with a glance or a slight movement impressed him no end.

Detective Spencer fanned the sheets of employee names and asked quietly, or as quietly as he could in a voice that the theatre manager suspected would register on the Richter scale, if he would come with him to sort out the crew and players and get them sent home for the night.

Aaron knew this was simply a means to get him out of his office so they, or rather Detective Wilder, could continue questioning Yuffie without his presence. Actually, he had been surprised that they had let him stay as long as they had.

He let the detective lead the way, following him to the break room to start sorting out the crew and send them home.

When they got there the manager found himself fending of a host of questions that he didn't have any answers to. He finally had to let the detective run interference to get everyone settled down, before telling them that Nelson's condition was still unknown. He let them know that the police might be talking with them in the next few days and that after verifying their identity and address, most of them would be free to head home.

"Take tomorrow off, we will be closed and I or my assistant will be calling you to let you know what's going on." He told them. "Also, I don't want anyone heading home tonight without a ride." Several of the crew rode the bus or subway and while it was probably perfectly safe, there had been enough trouble this evening. "If you don't have, or can't get a ride, the theatre will provide cab fare, so see me before you leave." He had already pulled the money out of petty cash when he'd collected the information for the detectives.

Aaron then turned the group over the Detective Spencer and the man worked through them efficiently, getting their information and sending them on their way with a minimum of fuss.

Everyone got to go home, except for James Ray, the props man, Dwight Petty the doorman/security guard and Raymond's assistant Sal Garner.

Leaving the three men with an officer at the door, the two of them headed off to try to do the same with cast.

SCENE 4

"Alright, let's go over this from the start." Detective Wilder said, once his partner had dragged the manager out the door. "You arrived early." Yuffie nodded. "Searched your room... just how bad have the practical jokes been?"

Yuffie fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable with the question.

"And don't tell me that they're nothing." Wilder told her. "I can already tell that it's worse than that."

Yuffie sighed and told him everything that had been happening. She told him about the silly joke attempts and the scary not so funny joke with the mirror and the dangerous didn't really believe they were a joke, jokes, leaving out only the time she'd fallen down the stairs opening night, as she hadn't realized that that was part of the same problem.

Wilder clenched his fists a little tighter with each new 'practical joke' that Yuffie'd had to contend with. Know it or not, this young lady was being stalked and she shouldn't have let it get this far. Sure she was new, but once things had turned dangerous she should have talked to the manager at least. Justin was pretty sure that Talley would have stopped this a long time ago.

He'd have a word with the man later, but for now he had to find out if all the abuse had caused her too finally snap or... or perhaps her stalker had upped the ante in a horrible way. It was also possible that she wasn't the only one with these problems. He would have to find out if anything had been happening to Potts, as it was possible that whoever was playing these sadistic games was doing it to more than one person.

He set the thought aside for the moment to continue the interview. "Ok, so once you checked the room you..."

"I put on my makeup, then Irene, she's one of the theatre's costumers and dressers, came in and helped me get into my costume and wig. Ummm, then I just, sort of meditated." She looked at him to see if he understood her, which it didn't look like he did. "I did some breathing exercises and a few careful stretches and then I sort of... put Ophelia on, like she was a costume as well." She gave a little self deprecating shrug. Trying to explain how she approached acting was always embarrassing.

"Okay," the detective said, stretching the short word to fill the silence. "So then, you left your dressing room. Did you lock it?" A quick shake of her head was his answer. "So what happened next?"

"I went out, did my scene, came back to the room and got a small drink of water and walked around in circles for a bit." Another of those little shrugs. "Then I went back out." She threw her hands up a little frustrated. "That's pretty much what I did the entire night. Either I went back to the room, or I waited in the wings because I didn't have enough time or reason to go back."

"How about just before Potts got stabbed?"

"I noticed Vincent in the wings, so I joined him to watch the show for a bit. I did need to go have my costume changed before my next scene, but it wasn't until the next act and Irene can't usually help me until later, so I usually wait a bit before going back."

"So you were there when it happened?" She nodded yes to the question. "And I supposed you rushed the stage like everyone else?"

She blushed and looked down a little sheepishly, surprising the detective. "Ah, no actually. Vincent stopped me before I could; he said that we'd just make it worse if we went out there."

Huh, a smart man when everyone else was panicking.

"What part does Vincent play?"

"Oh, he isn't actually in the play." The detective shot her a slightly incredulous look. "He's with the theatre, I guess, but he hasn't been able to do more than small parts since he was in a car accident. He told me that the management lets him hang around and watch the different productions..." Yuffie's voice trailed off as she realized that she didn't really know anything more about Vincent than what he had told her.

She really was such an idiot. Why hadn't she asked anyone about him? Even if she hadn't wanted to ask the manager she could have asked Dwight, that crotchety old man knew everyone in the theatre.

The detective didn't seem to notice her distress. "I'll check with Talley about him later. Did he end up in the green room with you, or with the crew?"

Yuffie jumped a little at the question. "I don't know. He was behind us when we were being sent to the green room, but he didn't come in after we got there. I thought that maybe he had already been pulled aside for questioning."

Justin knew he would have to look into this. It was possible that this Vincent had just been diverted to the crew's break room, but he didn't like the sound of someone disappearing from an escorted group. "Do you happen to know his last name?"

Yuffie nodded, a little relieved. "It's Valentine."

Vincent Valentine, the detective thought, now there's a stage name if I ever heard one.

"Ms, Kisaragi, I'm going to send you home with an officer." Given her stalker problems there was no way he was going to send her home alone. "The theatre will be closed tomorrow, so I would like you to give me a call in the morning and book an interview so we can take an official statement." The detective fished one of his cards out of a pocket and handed it to her.

She took it with a little gulp and a nod, leaving quietly with an officer once the detective had run one to ground.

SCENE 5

"If you're here about what just happened upstairs, I can't help you," Thing told Vincent in his strange, building filtered voice.

"Thing, I know you're the theatre's heart and that you don't like to give away its secrets, but..."

"It has nothing to do with secrets Vincent." The current tentacle monster paused for a moment in thought. "Or perhaps it does. I didn't say I wouldn't help you, I said I can't. I don't actually know what happened."

"That's not possible," Vincent said in a shocked whisper.

A mass of tentacles shrugged. "Possible or not, it is the truth. Whoever or whatever caused this, they are hidden from me. Hmmm, although I may know what's going on subconsciously."

"Subconsciously?"

If a tentacle monster could nod, then Thing did. "The stage floor boards, I think it was an attempt to warn, or maybe... maybe distract, I'm not sure. I can't quite get a hold of the feeling that caused it."

"Has anything to do with this building ever been hidden from you before?"

Thing nibbled on a tentacle in thought. "Maybe, sort of, but most of it was back in the early days, back when Blackwell was still running the theatre. I can't really be sure, I wasn't exactly real at that time. My consciousness wasn't completely formed yet."

Blackwell, the theatre's builder and first owner. A man who had created what had to be one of the strangest buildings on the planet.

"But enough about the past. When are you going to ask me about Yuffie." Thing asked him, bouncing slightly.

"What?"

"Oh, come on. Someone keeps trying to do nasty things to your new girlfriend and you weren't going to end up down here sooner or later trying to pump me for information?"

"She's not my girlfriend," was Vincent's cold reply.

Thing just looked at him until Vincent actually moved, shifting uncomfortably.

"But since you brought it up..."

"Ah, ah, ah, you said it yourself; I don't like to give the theatre's secrets away. However, I would suggest you look to those who might have a reason for jealousy. Professional jealousy for the most part, although I wouldn't be surprised if there wasn't a little of the other type as well, not that the kid did anything to cause it. Some people just don't want to blame the real culprit."

Vincent's eyes narrowed in thought for a few moments.

"Think about it later Vincent. You need to get back up there before the police start looking for you. It wouldn't do to ruin Talley's efforts to make it look like you're a legitimate part of this theatre. Oh, and if you get the chance, maybe you could look over Blackwell's old journal and see if he mentions anything about something that would block me, that is if you can get it out of Raymond's dressing room." Thing more or less shook his head. "Why you insist on leaving that thing in that little cubby is beyond me, I keep expecting each new actor in there to come across the thing and do something really stupid with it."

Vincent just shrugged slightly. "Speaking of doing stupid things, the police..."

"Yes, yes I'll stay out of their way" A little sigh. "Although the looks on their faces would be priceless."

"No!"

"Alright, alright, don't worry, don't..." Things sentence faded off as his attention was forced upstairs. "You'd better get up there now. I'd suggest sliding into the break room, as the detective who's looking for you doesn't know you weren't there and the green room is too crowded to sneak into, even for you."

Vincent gave a little nod and turned, moving quickly through the gloom of the basement.

Thing amused himself by watching his tentacles weave around him for awhile, before he sent his mind roaming through the theatre, looking for something more interesting to become.

SCENE 6

Talley nearly cringed as he and Detective Spencer walked into the green room. Queen Parsons was working herself into a full fledged diva snit. Briefly he wondered if it was because she'd been jammed into this room with the other actors for a last few hours, or because she had suddenly become third billed, with Raymond and Yuffie having been sent to questioning ahead of her.

"Rosella." He said her name as if it was the answer to the most profound of questions, hoping to forestall the upcoming confrontation with a quick bout of ego stroking, even if he knew it was pointless.

"Aaron," she nearly screeched his name and stalked up to him, ignoring the detective at his side. "I demand you fix this mess immediately. We can not continue to be cooped up like this without any way of knowing what's going on."

The manager actually agreed with her and would have told her so, but Parsons knew how to use her voice in a number of ways and if she was willing to use it to cut through a man's skull and pulp his brains, then there wasn't much else a man could do, but wince and wait for the pain to fade.

"Well, that's why we're here now Rosella." Talley looked over at the detective for backup, but didn't get it. For once the large man didn't remind him of a sleepy bear. Instead he looked like a bear that had caught its head in a trap. He apparently hadn't yet recovered from the diva's voice.

The manager turned from the actress to address the entire room. "I'm afraid we don't know Nelson's condition yet and due to the nature of the incident the theatre will be closed tomorrow." There was some grumbling at that. "Either I or my assistant will call sometime tomorrow, to let you know what's happening. This detective," he indicated Spencer beside him, "will need to ask you a couple of simple questions before you go."

"Once you're done with the detective and he's told you that you may leave, please do so. If you don't have a safe way home, and by that I mean a car or a ride, then see me. The theatre will provide cab fare."

Parsons looked like she was about to explode, having once again been ignored as Talley made his speech. However her chance to retaliate was interrupted by the now recovered Detective.

"Ms. Parsons, if you would like to be first?" Dom asked her, the rumble of his voice having been enough to quiet the room completely and as an added bonus, throw the actress off of her timing and forestall a diva fit to end all diva fits.

Talley let out a sigh of relief as Parsons recovered, but instead of launching into a fresh tirade only nodded and stepped up to talk quietly with detective. He wondered if the man would be interested in a job quelling high strung actors. He gave a quiet huff of laughter at the thought. He didn't know about the detective, but you couldn't have paid him enough to take that on, he had enough trouble dealing with them as the theatre's manager, never mind being a fulltime nursemaid.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Ah, you know the drill. Not mine, full disclaimer in Act 1.

And in this Dream...

By Colleen

ACT 8

SCENE 1

Vincent's timing was just a little off as he slid into the break room. Getting past the officer at the door wasn't a problem, but coming up behind a man he suspected was a plain clothes detective was.

At least the only person in the room that had noticed him come in had been Dwight and he just gave a little jump before turning his attention elsewhere.

"So are any of you Vincent Valentine?" The detective asked, searching the faces of the three men in front of him.

"That would be me."

Justin jumped and whirled, his hand making a brief but aborted move towards the gun at his side. He stepped back, finding himself much to close to the man he'd been looking for.

For some reason he had expected to Vincent to be an older man, with evidence of physical tragedy plain to see. Instead, a good looking obviously fit young man stood before him.

"Mr. Valentine, I'm Detective Wilder." Vincent inclined his head at the introduction. "I was wondering if I could have a few words with you, before we let you go home for the night?"

"Of course."

Justin gestured to Vincent to precede him through the door and followed behind. "We're just set up in the manager's office; if you'll just go ahead I need a brief word with the officer."

Vincent looked back and nodded before heading off.

Wilder pinned the hapless officer at the door with a look. "Did he come in behind me?"

The policeman blinked, surprised. "No sir, no one has come in or out since Detective Spencer let everyone else go home."

The detective hummed in thought, trying to figure out how he hadn't noticed the man when he'd entered the room. He rubbed at his face, deciding that the long night must finally be catching up with him and headed off down the hall to catch up with Vincent.

Justin watched Vincent as they entered the office, noting how he walked to one of the chairs that sat opposite the desk and took a seat.

He moved, the detective realized, like someone who was completely familiar with his surroundings. It didn't look like he paid much attention to it and it probably would have taken something being very out of place or new for him to notice. He had been in here before, a lot. Certainly more than Raymond Palmer or Yuffie Kisaragi had. Both of those actors had looked around as if they were rarely in the office and were checking it to see what they may have missed previously.

"Detective?"

Wilder jumped slightly at Vincent's voice and moved away from the open doorway where he had stopped. He took over the manager's desk and deciding to go with more of a bad cop attitude he attempted to pin Mr. Valentine to his seat with a look.

The look slid off Vincent like he was Teflon and he looked mildly back at the detective, waiting for him to begin.

Giving it up as a bad attempt Detective Wilder jumped into the questioning.

"So Mr. Valentine, you're employed by the theatre?"

One slight nod. "From time to time."

"How about this time? I didn't see your name listed in the program." Wilder held up a booklet that was handed out to the audience at the start of the play.

"No, not exactly, however I may be called on to play the occasional bit part if the play has a good run and needs a temporary replacement, should someone be sick or injured."

"Would that include taking over for Potts and playing," The detective paused to consult the program. "Playing Polonius?"

Vincent shook his head. "No, the part is much too long and besides Potts' understudy would take over the role. I believe he's currently playing Osric. One of the other courtiers would take over that role and then I might provide a body to fill in for the courtier."

Well, there went career advancement as a motive, at least where Vincent was involved. He guessed he had better track down the other two actors though, either of them might have seen this as a quick way into a better part.

"So, you were backstage all night." Vincent nodded. "Its strange, the only person who mentioned you was Yuf..., ah, Ms. Kisaragi, I would have thought that Palmer would have noticed you, he seems," the detective said with a slight smirk, "like the type to be annoyed by someone getting in the way backstage, especially if they were there just to watch the show."

Vincent gave him a tight, little smile. "By this time I've become a bit of a fixture, most people don't even notice that I'm here and I'm very good at staying out of the way. As for Palmer, I doubt he would notice me even if I were dressed in pink and carrying a pair of flaming batons. The man could not be more self absorbed if he tried."

Justin nodded, Vincent's observations about the actor jibbing with his own opinions.

"Did you happen to go into Ms. Kisaragi's dressing room during the night? Or see anyone other than Ms. Kisaragi herself go in?"

Vincent narrowed his eyes at the sudden change in the direction the questioning was taking. "I didn't see anyone go in or out of her room, however I wasn't always watching. When she was on stage I was watching her and when she was off I stayed out of her way so she could prepare for the next scene." Vincent paused for a moment, and then decided to tell the rest. "I did check out Yuffie's dressing room earlier, before she came in tonight."

"Oh?"

Vincent gave the detective a low level glare; the questioning tone was far, far too innocent to not know exactly why he had done that.

"Yuffie's had a few,' he clutched his right hand into a brief fist, "a few practical jokes sent her way since she started here." He looked the detective in the eyes. "She hasn't told me about them, but I've noticed she's been jumpy and I've seen the evidence of a couple of the nastier ones." The pinned makeup and the doorknob had been nasty and petty but he still wanted to rip someone's throat out for the tripwire on the stairs.

"You didn't happen to check her closet, did you?" Vincent gave his usual minimal nod. "Happen to find anything?"

Vincent thought back. "Her costumes were in there, as were the shoes. She also keeps an extra set of street clothes and a sweater for emergencies. Oh, and there was an empty sports bag on the floor of the closet."

"Good memory, I'm surprised." Vincent raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask the Detective why he was surprised. Wilder told him anyway. "When you said that the part of Polonius was too long, I thought that maybe you've had problems with your memory since the accident."

"Accident?"

"Oh, sorry, Ms. Kisaragi mentioned that you had been in a car accident."

Vincent's eyebrows bounced just the littlest of bits. "Yes, it was a few years ago, but I have problems with full time acting. It's more difficult to be someone you're not than most people think and while I have the physical stamina for the job, I no longer have the mental mindset I would need to set myself aside to become someone else."

Not to mention that it just wasn't safe.

"As for my memory, I don't have any problems with that. I could in fact recite the entire play of Hamlet to you if I wanted, which," Vincent paused for a moment, "I don't."

"Thank goodness, the last time you did that both of us were near to falling down drunk at that little bar on eighth."

Both men looked over to see Aaron Talley standing in the doorway with Detective Spencer hovering behind him. A doorway that Detective Wilder had forgotten to secure, before starting his questioning.

"Aaron." Vincent gave the manager what amounted to a seated bow.

"Vincent." The manager answered back with a slight bow of his own.

A little annoyed at the interruption Justin looked over to Dom, who gave him a shrug. "Sorry partner, but you did leave the door open."

Wilder resisted voicing the annoyed sigh that wanted out of his body and just went with the flow. "How are things out there?"

"We double checked the info on the actors and sent them home," rumbled Dom's voice. "We still have the prop man, the doorman and Palmer's assistant to talk to. If you want I could have them sent to the station. We can get their official statements and not have to do this again with everyone in the morning."

Wilder nodded and Spencer handed him the list of employees before leaving to set it up.

Justin looked over the sheets, finding Vincent's name listed as an actor. The address and telephone number next to his name seemed familiar and the detective flipped through his notebook until he found the manager's personal information and confirmed that it was a match.

"So, you and Mr. Talley are cohabitating?"

Vincent glanced over at the manager with a smile. "Actually, I'm between residences. Aaron was kind enough to let me stay with him until I find a new place."

"I'm surprised your wife puts up with that." The detective said to the manager.

Aaron gave him an 'I know what you're implying' smirk and a shake of his head. "I am currently between wives, so it's good to have some company."

"I suppose this means you've known each other for quite awhile?"

"Oh yes, a very long," the manager started.

"Long," Vincent continued.

"Long," said Aaron as it became his turn again.

"Long," Vincent added.

"Time." Aaron completed, smiling.

"Oh, God, save me from comedians." Detective Wilder hid his face in his hands and shook his head.

Aaron had the grace to look contrite. "I'm sorry detective, but I would have to say that the night is getting to us. Would it be possible to wrap this up and either let us head home or at least have us relocate to police headquarters? I feel that we aren't really getting any place running around in circles here."

Wilder nodded. "You both may as well head home. We know where to contact you."

"Thank you. I will be calling you tomorrow for information on where we stand with opening the theatre." Talley hesitated a moment. "Do you think the hospital would tell me anything about Nelson if I called them?"

"Not sure, if you and Mr. Valentine want to wait by the entrance with the officers I'll give them a call and see what I can shake loose."

"Thank you." Aaron gave a little tilt of his head and Vincent rose from the chair to follow him out.

Wilder followed them out into the hallway. He glanced around; looking for a uniformed officer he could send after them when Detective Spencer appeared at his side, already back from his earlier errand. "Keep an eye on them." Justin said in a sotto voice to his partner.

Dom nodded and followed after the pair of quietly talking men.

SCENE 2

"So, do you want to come home with me?"

"Why mister Talley what ever would the neighbours say?"

"Vinnnnncent."

"Humph sorry, couldn't resist." Vincent slid an amused look over to his long (long, long, long) time friend.

"Well?"

"I'll come for a bit, if that's alright, just in case they decide to follow you home." Talley nodded. "I'll head home once the coast is clear."

"You could just stay the night and come back in with me in the morning or..." Tally consulted his watch. "Perhaps the afternoon?"

"I could, but I'm afraid I find it... uncomfortable to be away that long."

Talley nodded his understanding and the two friends made their way quietly to the entrance of the theatre to await the detectives and lock the place down.

Watching the few remaining police officers mill around the lobby, Talley had a sudden jolt of body searing panic as a horrifying thought knocked on the door of his tired mind.

"Thing." He whispered, knowing that Vincent would be able to hear him.

"I had a word with him earlier," Vincent said, his voice just loud enough for Aaron to hear him, but not loud enough for it to carry to the other people in the room. "He promised that he would keep out of sight." Vincent paused. "He's been reading Lovecraft again."

"Tentacle monster?" Vincent nodded and Aaron shuddered at the thought of the police coming across that.

"I wouldn't worry Aaron, if Thing says he'll keep out of sight, then he will."

Talley let out a pent up breath and nodded. Really, given what went on in this theatre it was amazing that he still had all of his hair and the fact that most of it was grey wasn't at all surprising.

"Mr. Talley, good news." Aaron looked up to see the two detectives approaching. "Mr. Potts is out of surgery and while they still have him listed in critical condition, the doctor tells me they expect him to pull through fine."

"Thank you, that's just about the best news I've heard all night. Do you know when they might let me see him?"

Detective Wilder briefly wondered what the best news Talley had had this night was if Nelson being alright came in at just about, but he let it go. "I'm not sure, but you can probably call the hospital tomorrow to see if they're allowing visitors."

And with that the detectives ushered the two men out of the building.

Vincent got into Aaron's car with no little trepidation. He really didn't like sports models anymore. At least the night was clear and the roads to Aaron's place were far better than the ones they had taken that night so long ago.

They hadn't been driving for more than five minutes before Aaron asked. "They back there?"

Vincent stared out the front windshield and nodded. "We have an escort, the detectives I suspect."

Talley yawned and shook his head. "Darn, if I wasn't so sleepy I would suggest taking them on a merry chase, however." Another yawn threatened to split his face, "I'm afraid I'm getting to old for this sort of thing."

Vincent flicked a look in the side view mirror and then back out to the front. "Mmm, I know what you mean."

Aaron snorted, but didn't otherwise reply and Vincent just smiled that almost not there smile in his own, nonverbal answer.


	9. Chapter 9

WARNING: SMUT ALERT. This chapter has been biting my butt for forever, because I've been trying to make it fit. There is smut, it is somewhat unexpected WTF smut, but since I wrote details of this scene into other parts of the story and I want to keep them, I had to leave it in.

If you'd rather not read the smut just skip SCENE 3, you'll still be able to figure out what happened from later conversations, just without the details.

ACT 9

SCENE 1

Yuffie opened her eyes to the obnoxious presence of golden sunlight as it filtered in through the window. She glared at the curtains and blinds she'd been too tired to remember to close last night before she heaved herself into a sitting position on the side of the bed and blearily looked at her alarm clock. It took her a moment to bring the numbers into focus as her head felt like a bag of wet sand that had been pounded into an odd shape and then left someplace cold until it froze into an abstract sculpture of canvas and earth.

Her taste in her mouth could probably be described in similar terms as well.

She looked at her clock a little closer, not sure she had read it correctly the first time. She groaned slightly as she realized that she had forgotten to set it the night before and it was now several hours later than she usually got up. She gave the wet sand in her head a shake and swore lightly when it seemed to shift. It was a good thing that she didn't need to go into the theatre until much later… An almost electrical jolt ran through her system as she remembered that she probably wouldn't be going into the theatre at all.

Her phone rang, making her start and she fumbled for the handset of the extension she kept in the bedroom.

"Hewwo." Yuffie said in greeting, trying to get her sleep numbed mind to work her mouth correctly.

"Ms. Kisaragi?"

Yuffie coughed slightly and gave her face a rub before trying to talk again.

"Yes, that's me."

"Ah, good. This is Detective Wilder. I was wondering if we could get you to come in this afternoon to make an official statement, say around two thirty?"

"Two thirty?" The question was more to herself than to the detective. It should give her more than enough time to shower, dress, eat and get down there. "Sure, that would be fine."

"Great, we'll see you then."

Yuffie made some formless noise in agreement and hung up. Briefly she considered falling back into bed for a few minutes, but instead she hauled herself up into a more or less standing position and staggered off to the bathroom to get ready.

SCENE 2

Aaron Talley arrived at the station about thirty minutes before his appointment so he could meet up with his lawyer. Ira Donaldson was a very good solicitor, who had represented him and the theatre in a number of small altercations over the last twenty some years. Luckily Ira, while very good at the law, seemed to be unimaginative when it came to things outside of the legal profession. Over the two plus decades he'd known Aaron he'd turned a blind eye to more than one strange event.

In truth it wasn't that he didn't know something was going on, it was more that he was just too professional to admit that it was odd. The lawyer had even once had an entire conversation with the Thing in the Basement, back when Thing was in its Star Wars phase. If a twenty minute talk with Yoda hadn't made an impression on the lawyer's stoic indifference then there was probably little that the theatre could throw at him that would.

"Aaron," he shook hands with Talley.

"Ira." He said back as they both took a seat on one of the benches in the waiting area.

"So, anything to add from what you told me this morning?"

Aaron shook his head. "Not really. Nelson's condition is slightly improved from last night and the doctors are hopeful there won't be permanent damage. " Aaron sighed. "But it will be months before he's anywhere near recovered." The manager looked up as two police officers escorted a handcuffed prisoner through the doors to that lead to the interrogation rooms. "The police will of course be interviewing several of our people today and we're still waiting to find out when we can reopen the theatre."

"Have your people gotten lawyers?"

"Some yes, some probably no." Aaron hesitated for a moment. "Would you be willing to take on a couple of other clients?"

Ira looked at him with slightly raised eyebrows. "Such as?"

"Well Vincent, for one." Aaron said carefully, as the aforementioned man was probably the only theatre member who had come the closest to shaking Ira's ability to ignore the strange and unusual. "He really wasn't involved, but he was there watching the play that night and... I think he makes one of the detectives assigned to the case uncomfortable."

Ira didn't appear to be much surprised about that.

"The other client would be Yuffie Kisaragi. She's new to the troop and still young. I don't think it would occur to her to even get a lawyer. Also, someone stuffed the prop sword into her closet after they switched them, so she appears to be suspect number two after Raymond at the moment."

"You're sure she wasn't the one who did the stuffing?"

Aaron looked at the lawyer and nodded. "Yes, Vincent would have noticed." He'd managed to badger him last night until he had spilled all, or at least most of what had been going on during the last week. "He's been keeping an eye on her due to some... over the top practical jokes."

"How over the top?"

"Way over," he admitted. "They're the type that could get someone seriously hurt or possibly killed."

"Or arrested for murder?"

Aaron started at the suggestion. "I hadn't thought of that." He shook his head. "I hope not."

Ira nodded. "I'll take them both on as long as they don't object. Should I bill them or the theatre?"

Trust Ira to think of the money.

"Bill me, I'll cover it and if the theatre will reimburse me great, if not..." He shrugged his shoulders to show that either way it didn't matter much.

SCENE 3

Yuffie had just gotten out of the shower when her phone rang and she managed to make a spectacular dive for the hand piece while still managing to keep her towel up.

"Hi, this is Yuffie. I'm home right now so please go ahead and talk." Actually it was amazing how many people either hung up or spent a few seconds waiting for the beep to leave a message when she said that.

"Yuffie."

"Vincent," Yuffie said, suddenly self-conscious about talking to him while she wore nothing but a towel, even if it was over the telephone.

"I just wanted to call and see if you were all right."

"Umm, I'm fine. I lost track of you last night, did you end up talking to the police?"

"Mm, though there wasn't much I could tell them. They'll probably have me come in later to make it official."

"Heh," Yuffie laughed slightly and sat on the side of her bed. "Yeah, I have to go down there this afternoon and give my statement."

"Ah, good. Aaron's already gone down so you'll probably meet up with him."

There was an awkward pause between the two of them.

"Well I guess I should hang up and get dressed." Yuffie said.

"Dressed?"

"Uh, yeah. I just got out of the shower," Yuffie said as she tried to hitch her towel up a little tighter around her.

"You make it sound like you're sitting there in nothing."

"Well," she said, blushing slightly. "Nothing but a towel."

There was a brief silence on the other end, and then Yuffie could swear she heard Vincent swallow, hard.

"Well I suppose I should let you.... are you in your living room?"

"Uh, no, I'm in my bedroom, you know, on the bed."

Why the hell did she say that?

Vincent was very, very quiet.

"Sitting or lying?"

"Ah, sitting."

Very, very very quiet.

"Lie down on the bed?" Vincent asked, his voice sounding strangely shocked, as if he couldn't believe he'd even thought to suggest it.

"Vincent!"

"Lie down on the bed," he said again, the surprise in his voice was replaced with something else that brushed against her senses and gave her the sensation that he had caressed her skin over the phone.

She lay down on the bed.

"Umm, okay," she said into the phone.

"Now open the towel."

Her breath sped up a little, but she did as told.

"Naked now?"

Yuffie swallowed the sudden lump in her throat and her previous blush flared into fiery life. "Uh huh."

"Mm, good."

Yuffie's twitched slightly, as if Vincent's voice had been a hand that had run down the length of her body.

"Which hand is holding the phone?"

"Uh, my right."

"Ok, I want you to take your left hand and run it down your body. Start at the pulse point in your neck and stop when you reach your belly button."

Yuffie touched the heartbeat at her throat, not at all surprised that it seemed to be going way too fast. She flattened the palm of her hand down on her skin and moved it along her body, between her breasts and down and around her belly button.

"Okay."

"Do it again, keep doing it until I tell you to stop."

So she did, saying nothing, but letting the increased tempo of her breathing speak for her.

"Yuffie, I want you to close your eyes and let your hands move across your body." Yuffie's breath caught in her throat at the thought. "And I want you to pay special attention to anything that makes you gasp like that again."

Yuffie suddenly wished she'd gotten the speaker phone option as she tucked the handset under her chin so she could use both hands.

"Vincent," she said after a time, her voice strained. "Are you...?"

"Would you like me to?"

"Yes," she gasped as her hips suddenly started to move involuntarily in response to the stimulation.

She heard a groan come over the phone as she realized what Vincent must have finally touched.

"Would you like me to be on top of you, my weight pressing you down into the mattress?"

Yuffie's hips snapped up harder at the thought. "Yes."

"Would you like me to be inside of you, filling you up?"

"Oh, God, Vincent!"

"Touch yourself Yuffie, touch yourself down there."

Yuffie groaned, sliding a hand down her body and into the nest of curly black hair between her legs. She slid a finger down the line of wet heat and pressed one of them inward, searching for her core.

"Move with me Yuffie."

And they moved, two people in different places each reaching for the same moment of completion.

"Vincent!"

"Yuffie!"

Yuffie felt her body relax as she came down, little tremors still running through it as Vincent's harsh breathing could be heard over the line.

"Vincent I..."

"Shhh, don't speak, not yet."

Yuffie just breathed for awhile while sparkles danced behind her eyes.

"Yuffie I.... Thank you."

"Vincent?"

"I have to go Yuffie, but I'll see you later today. Don't forget to go to your appointment."

And before she could say anything he hung up.

She let out an aggravated little scream and came close to heaving the handset across the room, but a glance at her clock told her just how much time had passed and with a yelp she jumped out of bed and started to get ready all over again.

SCENE 4

Vincent leaned back on the couch in the Green Room and stared at the ceiling, his senses in shock. What the hell had he just done?

Perhaps he had finally gone mad? He had never done anything like that before, not even with Lucile and now..... Now he finally had to admit to himself that he didn't think of Yuffie as a friend or someone he was just helping or, Heavens help him, some sort of surrogate younger sister.

No, she wasn't any of those things and yet she was so much more than any of them.

He buried his head in his hands for a moment then leaned back, thumping his head against the back of the sofa. He had to be mad, there was just no way this could work.

He straightened up suddenly, giving himself a mental shake as he did. Whether it could work or not didn't matter. Right here, right now there was no way he going to regret taking this step with Yuffie, even if he thought that gibbering insanity had finally made the move from occasionally visiting his mind to taking up permanent residence there.

He just hoped that Yuffie was currently feeling the same way that he did about regrets. Which, given the way that he'd ended the call, she might not be.

He bounced his head off the back of the couch one more time for good measure, before he put aside the uncertainties that ran his life and just for this moment, let it be. He took a deep breath and then hauled himself off of the couch and left the room, not noticing the little amused squeak and scrabble of tiny claws as a small white rat came out from under the sofa to watch Vincent as he left. The rat gave another little squeak before he scurried off, heading into the heating ductwork to make its way back to the basement.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Still not mine, darn it. For full disclaimer please see Act 1.

ACT 10

SCENE 1

Interview rooms in police stations tended to be all the same. The same tables, the same chairs, the same sense of hostility and hopelessness lingering in the air.

Aaron sat down and glanced around himself as if where he was, was not in a squalid little room furnished with a beaten Formica topped table and torture implements disguised as chairs. His entire attitude would instead have been comparable to that of a man sitting down in comfort to stare out at a Zen garden, with the full intention of spending many hours in contemplation of it. It was a mental state he had worked hard to achieve over the years as he'd often had to make the best of places like this. He'd spent more time than he'd liked to have in rooms similar to this one when either an actor or the theatre itself had done something... stupid.

Of course, it wasn't usually for anything quite as extreme as attempted murder. Well except for the kidnapping and rape incidences a little over ten years before. However, those events had never been resolved, legally. It was probably considered a cold case now, as the rapist had disappeared shortly after. Something that had been surprising to many, as it was obvious that he was going to slide out from under the charges.

Aaron was fairly certain that Vincent, Thing, and at least two of the actresses who had been the bastard's victims had all had something to do with that disappearance, but he had never asked and they had never told.

He shook himself free from old, distasteful memories and turned his attentions to the two detectives as they entered.

"Mr. Talley, thank you for coming in. We should only have a few questions to go over, but we would like you to describe the events of yesterday in your own words, for the record, before we start.

Aaron nodded and gave them a run down of his day. A day that had been fairly normal, until the sounds of distress coming from the audience during the performance had clued him into the fact that something had gone terribly wrong. After that he tried his best to sort out and explain the pandemonium that occurred up until the police and ambulance had arrived.

"Thank you Mr. Talley, that seems very straight forward." Detective Wilder flicked open a file folder he'd brought with him and gave the top sheet inside a quick glance. "Now, I just wanted to ask you a few questions about the people working for you."

"Yes?"

"Vincent Valentine"

"As I believe you already know, Vincent is an actor with the theatre. He hasn't been in any large roles for a few years due to a car accident that did, at the time, leave him in a coma and partially paralysed for a little over six months."

"And you've know Mr. Valentine for sometime?"

"Yes, a very long time."

The detective smiled at him. "When's Mr. Valentine's birthday?"

"October 13th, why?" Aaron replied, confused.

"Just wondering. How old is he going to be on his next one?"

Aaron gave a little smile that seemed to hold secrets. "He'll be twenty seven."

"Hmmm, it seems strange to me that a man, so very much younger than you, is such a good friend."

Aaron smiled even wider at that. "The difference in our ages has never been a barrier to our being good, long time friends."

Donaldson shifted beside him and finally spoke. "It would also seem to have nothing to do with your case. Please keep your questions on track and stop fishing around for personal information on my client."

"Of course Mr. Donaldson," Detective Wilder said and started to run down the list of employees, gathering evidence that might help to fill in the gaps to the puzzle they were trying to solve.

SCENE 2

Yuffie paid the taxi driver, told him to keep the change and bolted out of the vehicle and up the wide steps of the police station. It was quieter inside than she had expected. No screaming crooks or smart-alecky TV type police officers to be seen anywhere. She gave her name to the desk sergeant, then took a seat on one of the benches to wait and fidget nervously.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Mr. Talley come out from behind the swinging doors to her right. He was followed by a smaller man, who's appearance quietly alerted anyone who looked at him as to his profession as a lawyer. With a movement of his head the theatre manager indicated Yuffie to the man behind him and they both came over to talk with her.

"Ms. Kisaragi, how are you this afternoon?"

"Oh, fine Mr. Talley, how was questioning?"

Talley gave her a smirk, indicating that she'd find out for herself soon enough.

"I'd like to introduce you to Ira Donaldson. He's my lawyer and I've asked him to represent you as well." When Yuffie opened her mouth, obviously to protest, Aaron held up a hand to cut her off. "The theatre will cover the expense and I'd rather you had someone in there with you who knows all the legal ins and outs."

Yuffie closed her mouth and grudgingly nodded her head in acquiescence.

"Good," was all Talley managed to say before Yuffie's name was called and she and Ira set off into the lion's den.

SCENE 3

.

Yuffie looked around the interview room and found herself suddenly depressed and cold. She shivered and rubbed at her arms a bit in an attempt to warm up. The lawyer, Mr Donaldson, just gave her a little smile and being a gentleman, helped her into one of the plastic chairs.

Detectives Wilder and Spencer entered then, only slightly surprised to see the lawyer they had just been dealing with back for a second round with a different client.

"Ms. Kisaragi, Mr. Donaldson." Detective Wilder nodded at each of them, then sat down and opened another file. This time he looked over a couple of pages before looking up to start his questioning.

"Ms. Kisaragi, I think it would be best if you went over the events of yesterday in your own words and then if we have any questions we'll ask them at the end."

Yuffie nodded and once again, but in more detail than previously, described her day from the time she arrived at the theatre until the police had arrived after the stabbing.

"Thank you Ms. Kisaragi, now, I would like to ask you about the stage noise you say you heard during the sword scene."

"Umm, yes, it was the floorboards."

Detective Spencer gave Yuffie a glance, getting the feeling that 'the floorboards' was an answer that she expected most of the people she knew to understand. The interesting thing was that it appeared that her lawyer, Donaldson, did know exactly what she was talking about.

"The floorboards?"

"Oh," Yuffie crossed her arms, hugging herself and hunching her shoulders. "Sorry, its just that everyone at the theatre knows about the floorboards."

"So, what about the floorboards?"

"Well, they're cursed," she said, with a moment of utter conviction. "Well, okay they're not really cursed, its just that everyone thinks they are."

The detective looked at his partner and then back at her, waiting for the rest.

"Ok, there's this spot on the boards that always makes a horrible noise when you step on it. The cast likes to catch out new people by letting them step on it without knowing about it. The noise is so bad that all of the plays are blocked to avoid the spot at all costs."

Detective Wilder gave her what amounted to an amused smirk of disbelief. "Why don't they just fix it?"

"That's why everyone thinks its cursed. They've tried to fix it off and on since the theatre was built. They've even replaced that part of the stage three times in the last twenty five years. Nothing's worked." Even if Vincent hadn't told her much about himself during all the times they'd eaten together, he had turned out to be a fount of information when it came to the theatre.

"Heh. So if they always block the plays to avoid it, who stepped on it?"

Yuffie clasped her hand, squeezing her chilled fingers together tightly in an attempt to warm them up. "No one, that's why I thought to mention it. It was also louder than usual. Everyone jumped, including the audience." She swallowed the lump that suddenly bloomed in her throat. "Actually, I think if Nelson hadn't jerked away at the sound that you'd be investigating a murder, rather than an attempted one."

"Hmmm." While Wilder didn't think there was anything important about a squeaky floorboard, other than the fact that it might have saved Potts' life, he was interested to see how may of the actors would mention it. It might be a way for him to gauge the amount that other witnesses were leaving out when they told their stories.

"Thank you for clearing that up Ms. Kisaragi. So, can you tell me about your relationship with Mr. Potts.

"The only relationship I have with Nelson is a working one. He's a nice guy and he doesn't try to walk all over you in a scene, but we don't see each other much outside of the theatre."

"And Mr. Palmer?"

Yuffie rubbed at her arms, not from cold this time, but rather as if she were trying to wipe away something slimy. "He's a letch and I avoid him at all costs. If I could avoid him on stage as well I would, but that isn't possible."

Having met Mr. Palmer both of the detectives did their level best not to smirk at that statement. They mostly succeeded.

Detective Wilder pulled a photo out of the file and placed it on the table. Yuffie was relieved that it was just a picture of Hamlet's sword. The detective tapped the picture and looked up at her. "We need to discuss the sword we found in your closet during the search."

The lawyer perked up at the mention of a search, something that didn't surprise the detective in the slightest.

"A search that may have been illegal," Ira interjected.

"We had permission from management to search the theatre, all of it, for a prop sword."

"Management may not have had the right to authorize a search of what could be considered private space."

"They're dressing rooms, not living space." The detective said, not really expecting to do more than stalemate the argument. When it came down to it they would say they were right and the lawyer would file motions to say they were wrong and a judge would decide which way it went.

"I don't know anything about a sword being in my closet. I never saw it there and I certainly never put it there."

"Well in that case, would you be willing to give us your fingerprints?"

Yuffie nodded before Donaldson could stop her, but he gamely tried to intervene.

"My client is not under arrest and therefore has no reason to give you her fingerprints."

"True, however there were several fingerprints on the prop blade. If we have hers, we would be able to compare them and eliminate her as someone who touched the sword."

Yuffie narrowed her eyes at the detective. "You mean someone who had touched the sword with their bare hands.

Wilder jerked slightly, surprised that Yuffie had made the distinction. Even Spencer showed his surprise, moving for the first time during the interview when his eyes went from half closed to three quarters open.

Yuffie smiled a little wryly at their looks. "I saw the play the theatre produced just before they hired me. It was a murder mystery with enough red herrings to feed every stray cat in my neighbourhood for a month. Anyone involved in it would think twice before leaving finger print evidence."

"And since Ms. Kisaragi's prints will not help in a search for something that isn't there, there is no reason for her to submit to the indignity of being finger printed like some common criminal." Ira said, jumping into the moment of silence.

Yuffie raised her hands to forestall further debate from the detectives and her lawyer. "I don't know if it will help or not, but I said I would, so I will."

Ira gave a little sigh, but deferred to his clients wishes. "Will there be anything else gentlemen?"

Detective Wilder gave a little shake of his head. "No. If Ms. Kisaragi would be kind enough to follow Detective Spencer to be fingerprinted, we'll have her statement printed up so she can look it over and sign it once she's done."

Yuffie nodded, realizing that anything that got her out of this room was something she was all for.

SCENE 4

Vincent let go a small sigh of relief when he entered the police station and found Aaron sitting on a bench, looking like he was waiting for someone to come out rather than waiting to go in himself. Then he tensed up again, knowing that the person he was probably waiting for was Yuffie and while he was hoping to see her here, he would now have to talk to her about earlier and, and...

He stopped that train of thought right there before it could drive him anymore around the bend and went to talk to his old friend.

"Aaron." Vincent said, a near study in stillness.

"Vincent." Aaron smiled up at him and indicated a seat beside him.

"Is...is Yuffie in there?" Vincent asked hesitantly as he sat down.

Aaron raised his eyebrows at Vincent's tone of voice and turned on the bench to look at his friend fully. "Yes she is." Aaron's eyes narrowed as he watched Vincent do something he hadn't really seen him do since before the accident.

Vincent fidgeted.

"Okay, what happened?"

Vincent winced, but gamely tried to bluff. "Happened?"

Aaron just glared at him. Vincent still could have done it better, but the manager hadn't been friends with him for this long without learning a thing or two. Vincent mentally squirmed under the look even if he managed to stay perfectly still physically.

"Vincent." Aaron pretty much hissed his name out.

"Did she seem alright to you?" Vincent asked him.

"Yes Vincent, she was fine. Now what HAPPENED?"

Vincent coughed into a fist. " I may have done something that could be considered extremely forward, with Yuffie." Vincent paused, not wanting to underplay what had happened. "Actually extremely forward is probably putting it very, very, very, mildly.

"And did she return this forwardness?"

Vincent coughed again. "Ah, yes." Vincent was glad that he couldn't blush anymore. He would have been beet red at the moment otherwise.

Aaron slapped him on the back. "It's about bloody time. I was afraid that you would never... well, you know."

Vincent dropped his face into his hands. "Aaron it can't work, you know it can't."

"Why the hell not!" Vincent looked up, surprised to see that his friend was actually angry. "It only won't work if you don't let it." Aaron held up a hand to stop his friend from protesting. "I know the situation with Lucile was already too messed up to change, but Yuffie isn't Lucile and this isn't the same situation."

Vincent sighed. "I know, but.... I will have to tell her. She'll have to know exactly what I am and..." Vincent cradled his head in one of his hands and gave a bark of laughter that had no amusement in it. "I'm afraid, afraid that she'll walk away once she knows. No actually I'm afraid she'll run away screaming once she knows."

Aaron shook his head. "I don't know if she will or not, but I think Yuffie is made of fairly stern stuff and she won't let go of something she really wants."

Vincent looked up at him. "But am I what she really wants?"

Aaron's reply was lost as the doors behind them opened and Yuffie, Donaldson and the two detectives came into the waiting area.

Vincent's eyes were only for Yuffie, who looked at him with wide eyes of her own before looking down and blushing slightly. Vincent would have gone to her right then, but there were to many people in the room and the detective, Wilder, had definitely noticed even that small amount of interplay between the two of them. He didn't want to give the man anymore ammunition than he already had. Not when it was aimed at himself and Yuffie, rather than at whomever had set this mess in motion in the first place.

"Ah, Mr Valentine, I didn't expect to see you here." Detective Wilder said as he approached. "We haven't been able to get hold of you all day."

Vincent was going to reply that he had been away from the phone for most of the day, but the sentence locked in his throat when he realized how Yuffie might take it. He coughed to clear his voice and chose to more or less ignore the implied question.

"I am here now, did you want me to make an appointment for a statement?"

Wilder smiled, briefly reminding Vincent of a shark. "Actually, why don't we get it done right now?"

Vincent shrugged, minimally of course, then nodded slightly and rose to join the detectives. Aaron got up with him and flicked a look over to Ira, then back to Vincent. Vincent understood and nodded his acceptance of the lawyer's help. Aaron in turn nodded to Ira who fell in beside Vincent as he started to walk to the interview.

The two detectives flicked quick looks at each other and followed.

Yuffie stood in the waiting area, blinking rapidly at the non verbal conversations that had flown around her. Just when, she wondered, had everyone suddenly become telepathic?

SCENE 5

Detective Wilder watched Vincent as he took in the interview room. Or rather, as he ignored it. His reaction was neither like Ms. Kisaragi's, who obviously felt nervous in the room or like Talley, who took the experience in stride and was pretending that it was a nicer place than it really was.

Valentine, Valentine just doesn't care, Wilder thought. He wouldn't have cared if it was the most sumptuous palace in the world or the most unpleasant pit. In some fundamental way Valentine wasn't living in the world the same way everyone else was.

Wilder mentally shook his head at himself. He often liked to try to get into the suspect's head, even if it was just about how they took the interview room, but this was bordering on fantasy.

Still....

"Is there something the matter Detective Wilder?" Justin blinked out of his thought trance and looked over to Vincent, who was regarding him with a somewhat frosty look. The detective shivered slightly, the room suddenly seeming colder than it had before.

"No Mr. Valentine, thanks for asking though. Please, have a seat." He indicated one of the crappy plastic chairs that the department had gotten stuck with several years ago. The things were as uncomfortable as hell and nearly indestructible. They'd probably last forever.

Vincent sat, looking neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. Mr. Donaldson and the detectives followed suit, shifting slightly as they tried to find a position their bodies would agree with. The lawyer shifted more than usual, which focused the detectives attention on him.

Strange, Wilde thought, the lawyer almost looks nervous. Which was odd as they had dealt with Ira Donaldson during other cases and knew that the man was pretty much unflappable.

"So Mr. Valentine, if you would please start by telling us what happened yesterday, starting from the time you arrived at the theatre, through to when the police arrived."

Vincent nodded and began his narrative.

As Wilder listened he began to understand why Mr. Valentine might not be able to return to theatre work. His voice, while a good one, was somehow always the same. It wasn't quite a monotone, but it was as if he couldn't be bothered to vary the tone of his voice, or else he had no emotion with which to make it vary.

No, he didn't believe that the man was emotionless, that frosty glare pretty much vetoed that idea. It did however seem as if his body was cut off from his mind in a way. Wilder began to wonder just how bad Vincent's accident had been. He would have to look it up. Given what Talley had said it may have been bad enough to have a police file.

Wilder realized that his partner was giving him a few sideways glances and jerked himself out of his second thought trance of the afternoon to pay attention to what Vincent was saying. His rendition of the day was a bit different, in that he got to the theatre earlier than anyone else other than the manager.

He also seemed to be skipping a few things, he couldn't have gone the whole day without eating after all. However, he may just not have thought it important enough to mention. Which lead the Detective to wonder what else he might have left out. Still, he did reaffirmed that he had searched Ms. Kisaragi's room, but added that he had cleaned out her water pitcher and glasses and refilled them. This action he fully admitted to as paranoia, having no evidence other than a bad feeling to back it up.

Valentine might for some reason rub him the wrong way, but he would pin money on any bad feeling this guy got. Wilder told him it was too bad he hadn't had a similar feeling just before the stabbing, but Vincent just tilted his head in an abbreviated shrug and continued his story.

There wasn't much more to add. He did remember the floorboard noise and he also told them about Ms. Kisaragi's level headed directing of people after the incident, something that the young lady herself had failed to mention. After that the police had arrived and it had been a trip to the break room, questioning and heading home with Talley.

"So, when you searched Ms. Kisaragi's room for dangerous practical jokes, did you check the closet?

"Yes."

Was there a sword in it?"

"No."

"Are you and Ms. Kisaragi involved?"

Vincent just looked at him. The detective could swear he could feel his limbs start to ice up. Even his partner shifted slightly beside him, an act that would translate as panic in another man.

"Is that question really germane to your investigation gentlemen?" Donaldson asked, casting a nervous glance over at Vincent.

His partner came to the rescue for this one. "Yes sir," Dom's voice rumbled in the small room, almost echoing off the four corners of the space. "we..."

"You need to ascertain our relationship in an attempt to verify the veracity of my statements concerning the young lady."

The two detectives just stared at the actor. Even the lawyer looked slightly shell shocked at the sudden excessive verbiage.

"Ah, yeah, I'm afraid we do," Wilder told him carefully.

Vincent lowered the glare intensity, but didn't let it go altogether. "Ms. Kisaragi and I are…" He paused for a moment. "We are a work in progress."

"A work in progress?" Wilder winced as his voice came out a bit high pitched and squeaky.

"Yes, while we are often in each others company and, and seem to like each other, it is still too new to call it a relationship. Although in the future I have hope that it may become one."

Strange, Wilder thought, he didn't seem to be as disconnected from reality when he talked about the girl.

And why did Donaldson look like he'd swallowed an entire raw onion?

The lawyer cleared his throat nervously. "Gentlemen, do you think we could get back to the actual case?'"

"Uh, sure. Mr. Valentine what's your relationship with Mr. Potts?"

"I don't have one. At most we nod to each other in the hall when we pass each other. If it matters I believe he is a good actor with an even better work ethic, but beyond that I don't know anything about him."

"And Mr. Palmer?"

"We don't even nod to each other. He is a good actor, a very good actor. He is also an ass and other than keeping an eye on him to make sure he doesn't do anything irredeemably stupid I don't have anything to do with him."

"Do you keep an eye on a lot of the people there?" Detective Wilder asked.

Vincent just stared at him.

Wilder notice Dom shifting again and decided to wrap it up.

"Thank you for your time Mr. Valentine, we'll be in contact if we need to speak with you again." Which you could bet your sweet bippy they would be needing to do, no way was this over.

"His statement gentlemen." The lawyer said, before anyone could move to leave.

"Well, if Mr. Valentine can wait we can get it typed up and he can look it over and sign off on it today, or he could come back in a day or two to.. "

"I'll wait." Vincent said, not letting the detective finish.

Strangely, it didn't take all that long for the statement to be ready. Vincent let Ira check it over before reading it himself, then he signed it, his signature a flourish that contrasted with the plain print of the words above it.

The detectives saw the two men out, then went to their desks to kick around a few thoughts from the days interviews.

Wilder almost sighed, sure that they didn't have enough information to connect the dots. Heck, he wasn't even sure they had enough to say that they even had dots.

He decided that as soon as they were done here he really needed to take another look at the scene. They wouldn't be able to keep the place closed forever and he wanted to check it over again before a few dozen people started trampling over any possible evidence. So he would have to go either tonight or in the morning.

Hmmm, only idiot TV detectives went wandering around dangerous places at night, in the dark, so morning it would be. He'd give Talley a call and tell him that they could reopen the day after that as long as there were no new developments.

SCENE 6

Yuffie gave new meaning to the word fidget as she waited for Vincent to finish his interview.

Talley watched her carefully for some time, wondering if the young girl was going to vibrate out of her seat. He had a sudden memory of cartoons where a character would vibrate so hard they'd break through the ground all the way to China or through a wall to go vibrating off down a road to certain, if temporary doom.

"Yuffie, how long have you and Vincent been dating?"

Well she stopped vibrating, but now she'd turned so red he was afraid she might explode.

"Dating?" She squeaked out. "No, we're not, well not really, we just eat together a lot of the time and he walks me home and we had phone sex." Yuffie's eyes widened to about the size of a dinner plate and she slapped her hands over her mouth, obviously mortified.

Aaron started to wheeze. Very, very, very forward indeed Vincent. Not to mention downright surprising. "I think you may want to consider the possibility that you and Vincent are dating," He said once he got control of his breathing again.

"Oh," she said, sounding a little lost.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, no its not, I'm just not sure that he thinks of it that way."

Aaron snorted, the two of them were so very much alike. He was really surprised about the phone nookie now, as Yuffie and Vincent were the type to waste time dancing around each other and their own emotions.

"Trust me Yuffie," he started, but was interrupted as Vincent and Ira came back from the interview.

Yuffie jumped to her feet, only vibrating slightly. Aaron joined her a little slower and declined to vibrate.

"How did it go?" The manager asked the two men.

"It went well enough. They aren't really doing anything more than fishing for information," the lawyer told him. "And since we seem to be done for the day I'll leave you. Let me know when they want to see you again. Aaron, do you want me to start hounding them to let you back into the theatre?"

Talley thought for a moment, then shook his head. "If we haven't heard anything by tomorrow afternoon, then yes. I'll give them until then to check the place over."

"Then I'll be seeing you. Call me when you need me."

Aaron nodded and watched as Ira leave. Then he turned to look at the other two with him and gave them a small smile. "Well, now that that's over, may I give both of you a lift home?" Aaron briefly wondered if he could get the two of them to sit in the back seat. Sports cars didn't have much room back there and they would have to get very friendly with each other.

"Yes, thank you." They both said together, with both of them looking embarrassed shortly after doing so.

"Well come on, lets get out of here before they charge us with loitering."

And with a sweeping move worthy of any actor on the stage today, Aaron led their little group out of the building and into fresh air and sunlight


	11. Chapter 11

Still don't own them. For full disclaimer please see Act 1.

And In This Dream...

By Colleen

ACT 11

SCENE 1

Vincent sat jammed up beside Yuffie, trying to figure out just how Aaron had managed to get him and the young woman in the back seat together.

Not that he wanted to complain about the situation, but Aaron had to know that sitting here with her was pure torture. Her scent was intoxicating and even though he knew he should, he couldn't bring himself to stop breathing it in. In penance he forced himself to sit stiller than usual so he would be less likely to brush up against her when the movement of the car attempted to press them closer together.

It was a punishment, it had to be, because really, all he wanted to do was bury his face in her hair and touch everything.

Vincent gave himself a mental slap across the face and turned his concentration to watching Aaron drive and desperately tried to block out the rise and fall of Yuffie's breathing and the heat of her body whenever it accidentally touched his.

-ooo-

Yuffie sat beside Vincent barely daring to breath. Vincent's body seemed to run a bit cool, but she still felt as if she'd been touched by a branding iron everywhere they came in contact.

It didn't escape her notice that Vincent was doing his best to avoid touching her as much as possible, which in the back seat of this car was impossible. Still, his avoidance was obvious and she felt as if her heart were being squeezed in the vice that was preparing to break it.

-ooo-

Aaron watched the two from the rear view mirror and came perilously close to rolling his eyes. He was just considering taking a corner or two extra fast to see it he could jumble the two of them together when Yuffie reminded him that they were arriving at her building.

He parked the car and got out to help Yuffie, something that was less chivalry and more necessity given the back seat of the car. Vincent got out with her, telling his friend that he would walk home and see him later. Aaron hoped that he did this so he could talk to Yuffie, but suspected that it had more to do with his dislike of cars, especially small sports cars.

Briefly, he considered giving the two of them a 'get together already' lecture, but decided that maybe he had interfered enough for one day. If they didn't work some things out themselves they'd never get anywhere. So Aaron hopped back into his car and with a jaunty wave pulled out into traffic, leaving Vincent and Yuffie standing on the sidewalk in front of Yuffie's building.

SCENE 2

With Aaron gone Vincent and Yuffie suddenly found their feet to be a source of great interest. Yuffie was just considering purchasing a new pair of sneakers when Vincent cleared his throat and she looked up at him.

"Yuffie, I wanted to talk to you about earlier." Was what Vincent was going to say but he only got to the't' of talk before Yuffie jumped in.

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me, it was a mistake, you didn't mean to do it and you don't have to worry, just because I... just because I played along doesn't mean that, it doesn't mean anything, I know because it was just an accident that we did that, just a random..."

"YUFFIE!"

"What?"

"Breathe." Vincent said, placing his hands on both of her shoulders.

Yuffie breathed.

"Now then, it wasn't a mistake, not for me. I was surprised that I did it, but I meant every moment of it and I do worry, because to me it was more than just playing," Vincent told her.

"Oh."

Yuffie looked down at her feet again, and then looked back up into Vincent's eyes.

"It wasn't playing, not to me."

Vincent let out a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding.

"So what do we do now?" Yuffie asked. "I mean, does this mean we're dating or does it mean we've skipped that part and are now somewhere else?"

"Dating, dating sounds good," Vincent told her. "We need the time to get to know each other better."

Yuffie raised an eyebrow and looked at him.

"Ahem, alright, you need some time to get to know more about me."

"Darn straight."

"I want to tell you everything but... some of it you're not going to like."

"You won't know until you tell me."

"True, however I've kept a lot of this to myself for a very long time; it may take a little while for it to all come out."

"Ok," Yuffie said, "I can live with that." She looked around, noticing that they were getting looks from the occasional passer-by. "Um, so do you want to come up for awhile?"

"Uh, no." Vincent winced slightly at the forlorn look that briefly crossed Yuffie's face when he said that. "I would like to, but I'm afraid that being in your apartment, alone, would be…" Heaven, he thought. "Hazardous to the health of our dating."

"Oh?" Yuffie thought for a moment, then got it. "Ohhhhhhh! You mean you might, and then I might, and then we might..."

"Exactly."

"Oh."

"So how about we start traditionally?" Yuffie gave Vincent a confused look. "How about dinner and a movie tomorrow?"

Yuffie mulled that over for all of two seconds. "Yes, I'd love to," she said, excitedly.

"Good, I'll pick you tomorrow night at, shall we say, six thirty?"

"Sure, oh and Vincent," she said as the man turned to leave. "During dinner, I want you to tell me at least one thing about you that I don't know." Which, she thought, wouldn't be difficult as that covered quite a lot of material.

Vincent nodded and gave her that minimal smile, the one that always attempt to melt random pieces of her clothing. "I will. Until tomorrow then."

"Tomorrow," Yuffie said, impulsively reaching up to give Vincent a quick kiss on the cheek before bouncing off with her usual sense of energy into her apartment building.

Shocked, Vincent touched his gloveless hand to his cheek as he watched her leave.

SCENE 3

As he walked home, Vincent alternately hid his face in his hands and bonked his forehead against a closed fist.

He had a date.

He hadn't had a date in... Well, the amount of time didn't bear thinking about. And even worse, he was going to have to find something about himself to tell Yuffie. Something important. And he doubted that favourite food, colour, or play was going to cut it here.

But it also couldn't be something that would send Yuffie running away from him. While he knew many of his secrets could do just that, he hoped that if he didn't hit her with them all once then maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't run.

And maybe pigs would fly.

No! He wasn't going to do this. He wasn't going to allow himself to give up before they'd even started. Maybe he shouldn't do this, maybe it wouldn't work, but he was damn sure going to try, at least this once.

He'd already decided he would never regret Yuffie, but if he didn't take this chance he would be nothing but regret.

And he already had enough of that in his existence.


	12. Chapter 12

Still don't own them. For full disclaimer please see Act 1.

And In This Dream...

By Colleen

ACT 12

SCENE 1

BANG, thud, squeak, stuff, scrape, scrape. BANG, thud, squeak, stuff, scrape, scrape. BANG, thud, SQUEAK… Vincent looked over from his shooting practice in the basement of the theatre as what looked like a few hundred rats spilled from the shadowed areas in the space and came together to form, of all things, a small cat like creature wearing a gold crown and a small red cape. Vincent frowned at it, not sure why he found Thing's latest shape both disturbing and familiar at the same time.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Thing asked in a Scottish accent, the sound of his own voice causing him to start and look down at the form he'd chosen to shift into. A slightly confused look came over his face when he realized that he was a stuffed toy rather than a tentacle monster. Mentally he shrugged, suspecting that having broken his mind into a few hundred smaller creatures was making him slightly barmy.

Vincent just grunted at Thing and reloaded his duelling pistol again before shooting down another defenceless plastic bottle that he had filched out of the recycling box back stage.

"Vincent."

"Does it matter? Sleeping tends to be optional for both of us."

"Well I was still doing it before you started putting holes through things. What's got your panties in a bunch anyway?"

Vincent sighed as he reloaded the one shot duelling pistol. "I asked Yuffie out on a date, which isn't until 6:30 tonight. I just needed something to keep busy with until then."

"Please tell me you're not going to shoot things for the next ten hours."

Whatever Vincent was going to reply to that was lost in the moment when both of them felt one of the doors to the theatre open and someone who did not belong to the theatre enter. With a quick look at each other Vincent holstered the pistol he was holding and moved off to investigate, while Thing once again dissolved into a few hundred rats that scattered to hide in the darkness.

SCENE 2

Hoping to squeeze a little more out of their day, Detective Wilder and Detective Spencer had ignored regs and split up. Dom headed over to the hospital, so he could take a second run at questioning Nelson Potts now that the actor was a little more coherent, while Justin opted to search the theatre again. After checking each of the doors to make sure that none of the seals had been tampered with he broke the one on the back door and unlocked it with the key that he'd gotten from management. The inside was dark and far colder than the sunshine warmed air outside. Justin shivered slightly, his body attempting to remind itself what heat felt like and he paused long enough to zip up his jacket before he proceeded to check out the stage.

Consulting the files and photos he'd brought with him he mapped out the scene, looking for anything new or forgotten. Unfortunately nothing shook loose. He spent about ten minutes looking for that much talked about squeaky floorboard and spent another two or three minutes echoing the sound of the snap, creak, crack off of the walls of the auditorium.

Then he searched the dressing rooms.

It was now that he had to acknowledge that something more than just the cold was affecting him. He'd tried to chalk it up to his imagination, the two or three times he'd noticed it while out on the stage, but the feeling that he was being watched felt stronger here and ran goose bumps across his body.

The feeling was unsettling enough that he kept misplacing things. He stopped putting the files down because every time he did they seemed to go walk-about and he was getting tired of searching the room for them, only to finally find them where he thought he had put it in the first place.

He'd also noticed that after he'd moved a couple of items during his searches he must have moved them back, without noticing that he'd done so. Or at least, that was his story, and he was sticking to it.

As soon as he stepped down into the basement he desperately wished that he and Dom had not split up this morning. Every small hair on his body seemed to stand at attention and plead with his skin to just crawl its way back up the stairs to safety.

There was too much random junk down here. Too many places for someone to hide and here the feeling of eyes pushed against him like he was walking through glue. Sweating, Wilder was seriously starting to consider calling in a squad of men to search the place when the beam from the flashlight he'd grabbed from the crews workroom caught the glimmer of eyes.

Lots of eyes.

Eyes that scurried on four legs and gave little squeaks, before hiding admit the boxes of rubbish that the theatre was storing down here.

Wilder let out a relieved breath and made a mental note to tell Talley that he had a rodent problem and that he had better bring someone in to take care of it before some health department made his life hell.

Wilder got out of the basement just as fast as he could after that and made a check of the theatre's second level. Feeling a little silly over his earlier reaction he lingering in props as he studied the different bits and pieces that went into giving a sense of reality to a play. He even gave the skull that was playing Yorik a playful rap on the top of its head, blanching slightly as he realized that the thing was real and not a plaster cast. Chilled by the revelation he decided that he'd had enough of the place. As he headed down the stairs he checked his note book for a phone number and flipped his cell phone open to give the manager a call, telling him that they could have the place back the next morning.

He left by the back door, his attention fully on getting out of the building and back into the sunlight. If he had looked behind himself one more time before leaving he would have seen a tall man, with long dark hair and glowing red eyes watching him from midway up the stairs to the second level. The man's hand was on the butt of a pistol he had holstered at his side, his other hand rubbed at his head in an annoyed fashion, as if he'd suddenly been struck by a headache.

It was just as well that he didn't look.

SCENE 3

Ahhh, Yuffie couldn't believe it. She had nothing to wear, her hair was a disaster, she couldn't find her favourite earrings and Vincent was going to be picking her up in FIVE HOURS.

Yuffie stopped and just breathed. It was going to be alright, she'd find something to wear, she still needed to wash her hair and straight was in so that should be fine, she had lots of other earrings and Vincent wasn't picking her up for five hours.

Aaahhhhh!

Still, all in all she managed to get it together. She picked out a comfortable sleeveless green dress, one that was dressy enough to go out to dinner in, but casual enough to wear to take in a movie. She added a little sweater in a similar but lighter shade of green, a gold chain, gold ear studs and a pair of black flats. Not that she couldn't use the height that a pair of heals would give her, especially given how much taller than her Vincent was, but she liked to move and she wasn't able to do that very well in anything over half an inch.

Unless it was dancing, then you had to have heels.

Yuffie wondered if Vincent danced.

One date at a time Yuffie, one date at a time.

-oooo-

Vincent had to stop himself from messing with his hair, it didn't need brushing, it was already laying as flat as it always did and it wasn't like he was planning to curl it or anything. The suit he was wearing was only slightly different than the one he had worn the day before, but that couldn't be helped. He made sure that he already had money on hand so he wouldn't have trouble with it and he only had, oh look, four hours to go before he had to pick Yuffie up.

Darn it, why did Thing have to toss him out of the basement? A few more hours of target practice would have taken care of all of this waiting.

With a huff Vincent sat down on a couch in the manager's office and tried to calm down. You'd think he'd never been on a date. He got up and picked up the newspaper he'd gotten that morning after the detective had left. Opening it to the entertainment section he once again checked the names, start times and theatres of the three movies that he was still trying to decide between to take Yuffie to.

Maybe he should just ask her which one she'd like to see.

Or they could just hit one of those multiplex places and pick one out at random.

No, no, a date should be planned out, otherwise it was just two friends getting together to go out.

And he wanted it to be more than that.

SCENE 4

Finally after all the waiting and fussing and general panic 6:15 finally rolled around.

Vincent arrived those fifteen minutes early and stood outside the doors to Yuffie's apartment building wondering if he should buzz her place or wait for her to come out. Luckily for him Yuffie stepped out of the elevator, arriving fourteen minutes early in a plan to wait outside for him.

Yuffie stopped herself from doing another physical check of herself. The one at her door had probably been good enough and if it hadn't the ones waiting for the elevator and in the elevator should have caught anything that was wrong.

And besides, Vincent was watching her.

Always the gentleman Vincent held the outer door open for her. "So, is Italian alright?"

Yuffie would have noticed that Vincent wasn't quite able to look her in the eyes. Would have noticed that is if she wasn't currently feigning interest in her shoes. "Yeah, that would be fine."

The tableau held for a few moments before Yuffie let out an aggravated breath and looked up. "This is silly, just because we... well its silly. We've eaten dinner together lots of times.

"Yes," Vincent said looking up into her eyes.

Yuffie forgot to breathe for a moment as Vincent's eyes were all she could see, all she could concentrate on. She felt a part of her teetering on the edge of something, but just before she was going to fall Vincent's posture stiffened and he quickly looked away.

Yuffie shook her head and blinked rapidly trying to clear the glaze from her eyes. "Ok, right, so we're both in agreement, it's silly."

Vincent looked, well, awkward, but he agreed with her once again before offering her his arm and walking Yuffie the few blocks to the restaurant. The place was one of the lively Italian places that managed to be popular with students, couples and families.

Even though the place as busy they only had about a ten minute wait before getting a table. The place was packed with people and the tables had barely enough space for the waiters to weave their way through. The noise level from the conversations around them was high, but it gave a strange sense of privacy to each of the diners as the blending of voices made it near impossible to listen in on another group's conversation.

Once seated Vincent looked over the wine list and after a quick question to Yuffie ordered two glasses of wine, forgoing the house brand for a slightly more expensive and easier to drink Merlot. The waiter took their order with a smile and quickly ran down the evenings specials before leaving them with their menus.

Yuffie looked the menu over, quickly dismissing every meal with a tomato sauce. Visions of meatballs or ravioli covered in the slippery stuff squirting off to slime its way down the front of her dress made sure of that.

She finally settled on the four cheese tortellini. Having a mishap with that dish still wouldn't be good but it was much better than tomato. Now she'd just have to be careful with the wine.

Damn, dating was hard work, and they hadn't even finished dinner. She'd never worried this much when she'd had dinner with Vincent before.

Vincent, she noticed, ordered the ravioli, tomato sauce and all. Of course he was dressed in his usual black and tomato sauce wouldn't be very noticeable if he had an accident.

Yuffie carefully played with her wine glass for a bit before looking up at Vincent's eyes. This time the pull from them wasn't as extreme as before, though she still felt she was in danger of falling.

Time to talk then.

"So, you were going to tell me at least one thing about yourself that I don't know." Vincent winced softly, but nodded in agreement.

"So?"

Vincent took a breath, he had decided on this piece of information earlier, but was still nervous about it. He knew he shouldn't be. It was normal, though personal information about himself, nothing dangerous at all. His own family had of course known, as did Aaron and Lucile and really in this day and age it wasn't a big deal...

"Vincent?"

"Sorry, just thinking a few things over."

She looked at him expectantly.

"Ok, one thing you don't know about me, is that I am one quarter Wutanese."

"Oh!" She said and then paused. "Ohhhhh." Yuffie narrowed her eyes at him and smirked slightly. "That explains the chopsticks."

Chopsticks, Vincent thought, what...? And then he remembered their first dinner together. He nodded in answer to her implied question.

"So, which side of the family?"

"My father's. His mother, my grandmother came over..." He trailed off, realizing that he couldn't give her that date, not yet. "She came over as a young girl."

"Ok, so your dad was half and you're a quarter. She paused as a thought lit up her face. "Do your parents live here?"

"No, I'm afraid they both died several years ago."

Yuffie winced and started to apologize for asking, but Vincent waved it off, telling her she couldn't have known. Yuffie was saved from any more embarrassment by the timely arrival of their meal.

They ate, talking quietly about which movie they'd like to go see after dinner. They finally settled on a romantic comedy, which was something they hoped they could both stand.

And Yuffie did manage to finish her meal without spilling anything. Not wanting to further tempt fate she declined dessert and stepped carefully through the tightly packed restaurant to wait by the door while Vincent paid the bill, leaving the money for it along with a tip on the table.

Yuffie looked back at their table as they were about to leave and noticed the waiter looking at the money Vincent had left. With a shrug he tucked the bills into his apron pocket and then she was out the door on Vincent's arm, heading to the theatre.

SCENE 5

The romantic comedy turned out to be something neither of them could really stand. Thankfully the couple in it didn't remind them of themselves in anyway. In fact both of them fervently hoped that such a couple didn't exist anywhere other than in bad Hollywood scripts and even worse Hollywood movies. Still it didn't matter, as the movie wasn't important. The two of them together was what was important.

As Vincent walked Yuffie home both of them fell into a comfortable silence. At the same time both of them realized that this was by far the best part of their evening together. The two of them were finally alone without noisy dinners or popcorn munching teenagers to distract them.

And, even though they might not be ready to admit it, they really didn't want to be distracted from each other.

They arrived back at her apartment building far too soon.

"So, would you like to come up for awhile?" Yuffie asked, nervously twisting a lock of hair around one finger.

"I don't think I should Yuffie."

Yuffie put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "I'm not taking no for an answer."

"Yuffie."

"Vincent I know you're a gentleman and I know you won't do anything that I wouldn't want you to, so come up for a little while."

Vincent raised an eyebrow at her little speech, but agreed to come up. Yuffie practically bounced through the apartment doors and into the elevator, much of her normal enthusiasm suddenly coming back to her.

She hadn't thought about the ride up.

Elevators, even big ones aren't really all that big. Standing across from one another with nothing but each other to look at even for the short period of time it took to get up to Yuffies apartment was, to say the least, nerve racking.

But they got through it.

The trip down the hall was alright and Vincent waiting at her side as she unlocked the door was fine. They entered okay and Yuffie showed him into the living room. They stood in the middle of the room, somewhat closer to each other than necessary.

"So, I'm afraid I don't have any coffee to offer, but would green tea be alright? It's what I usually drink."

"Tea would be fine."

And suddenly they were wrapped in each other's arms, lips seeking each others. Vincent ran his right hand along Yuffie's arm while burying his leather clad left one in her hair. Yuffie moaned slightly as she opened her mouth to Vincent and she shuddered when he accepted the invitation. He kissed her deeply and thoroughly as she rubbed her hands up and down Vincent's back and marvelled at the play of muscle she could feel under his clothing.

Vincent was in simple awe of the feeling of her mouth on his. Her scent cut through his senses, making him dizzy and he wanted her like he'd never wanted anything before. Yuffie made another of those little moans that cut through another part of his anatomy and he deepened the kiss for a moment before horrible common sense cracked him over the head and he let go. He backed away from her, breathing hard.

Yuffie's breathing wasn't much better and she blinked in confusion at the lack of heat and presence that had previously enveloped her.

"I think that maybe," Vincent said, his voice hoarse, "I shouldn't stay for tea after all."

Yuffie opened her mouth to protest, but closed it quickly, realizing just how far they had gone in a few seconds and just how far she would have gone if Vincent hadn't pulled back.

"Vincent..."

"I'll see you tomorrow at the theatre," Vincent said as he backed out of the room, towards the door.

Yuffie took a step towards him and stopped when she realized she had a sudden urge to throw herself at Vincent. She wanted to, she really did, but sadly she just wasn't ready to test the, whatever it was they had, by going that far. Not yet anyway. And apparently, neither was Vincent.

"Right, tomorrow. I'll probably be in early to see what's been screwed up by the police while we were gone."

"Good," he said as he backed up towards the door and felt behind him for the knob, fumbling with it slightly. Relief etched across when he managed to open it. "Until tomorrow then." He hesitated a moment. "Would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow?"

Yuffie brightened at the invitation and nodded. "I'd love to."

"Good, well then, goodnight Yuffie."

"Goodnight Vincent"

And Vincent slipped through the door, closing it quietly behind him.


	13. Chapter 13

I own a plushie doll of Vincent…. Doesn't count, huh? Oh Well. Still not mine, for full disclaimer see Act 1.

And In This Dream…

By Colleen

ACT 13

SCENE 1

It was a little after ten the next morning when Yuffie arrived at the theatre. She yawned widely as she entered, having slept poorly the night before. No surprise, as she'd gone to bed annoyed, frustrated… and alone. She'd tossed and turned for several hours before finally falling into a fitful sleep that did little to rejuvenate her. When she'd woken up a few hours later, still very much alone, she found she was even more annoyed and frustrated than when she'd gone to bed.

She was also just a touch irritated to see that Dwight wasn't there. A good early morning snark fest would have helped to reset her day, but she supposed that he usually came in later, there not really being much need for his presence this early.

She trudged to her dressing room and opened the door carefully, in case another practical joke had been set in place while they'd been gone. For the first time that morning things were looking up as nothing seemed to have been seriously altered. She dumped her purse on the makeup table, gave the mirror its usual distrustful glance, and then turned to her work. She made a thorough search of the room, taking extra care when checking over her costumes and makeup, before setting things in place for the performance that evening.

Aaron had already told her, when he'd called the day before, that the show that night was sold out. At the time she'd been fretting too much about her upcoming date with Vincent to pay much attention to the situation, but now she felt a little uncomfortable about it. She wanted people to come to the play because they wanted to see a bit of good theatre, not because they wanted the vicarious thrill that came from real violence safely brushed up against.

With everything finally ready she left her dressing room, locking it behind her. Vincent hadn't shown up yet and since Dwight wasn't at his post that left Aaron as the only one who might know where he was.

Aaron was, as usual, holding court in his office. Yuffie knocked on the open door, poking her head in to see if he was busy. He was on the phone, with one of the board members from the sound of it. She considered backing out and returning later, but he waved her to one of the seats in front of his desk and she came in and sat down as he finished up his call.

"Bloody board members, never satisfied. They're all freaked about the incident, but happy about the box office." Aaron shook his head over the mess and turned his full attention to Yuffie. "So, what can I do for you this fine morning?"

"Vincent."

Aaron raised an eyebrow at the answer, but didn't say anything.

As an actress Yuffie had learned to simulate a blush as needed, so why couldn't she learn the opposite and appear to not be blushing? "Have you seen him? We're supposed to go out for lunch later and I wanted to know when he wanted to go."

"Lunch eh, and when did you two set that up?"

"Oh, well…" Yuffie was mortified to feel the surface of her face heat up even more. "We did the dinner and a movie thing last night and made a lunch date for today."

"Ah ha, so you are dating."

Now completely red in the face Yuffie just nodded.

"Well I haven't seen Vincent this morning, but I'm sure he's around, he often is. You should see if you can track him down, since he promised me that he'd play one of the courtiers while Nelson's in the hospital."

The sound of two voices arguing loudly and approaching the office pulled Aaron and Yuffie's attention away from their own conversation and to the office door just as someone pounded on it. Yuffie could swear one of the voices was Raymond, it being the more distinct one as well as the only one that was still talking.

Yuffie notice the flicker of a frown cross Aarons face before he slammed a bland look over his features and called out a calm "come in". He settling back in his chair and waited to see what new disaster was befalling them.

Jimmy Ray, the prop man, stormed into the office and right up to Aaron's desk, not even noticing Yuffie's presence in the room. "This damn idiot broke every flagon we have," he said, waving his hand back at an annoyed looking Raymond.

Aaron just blinked at him for a moment. "Excuse me?"

"The flagons, you know, the pitchers that hold wine, the ones we use during the sword fighting scene, this idiot broke them."

"I did not break them, I wasn't even carrying them." Raymond said in a thoroughly irritated tone.

"No you're just the klutz that decided to practice sword fighting in the halls when my people are trying to set the stage for tonight."

"Gentlemen!" The manager's voice interrupted before Raymond could take his turn in the argument. "Was anyone hurt?" He directed his question towards the prop man, who shook his head. "Good, so get it cleaned up and replace the flagons." He looked over at Raymond as a smug look starting to steal over the actor's face. "And as for you, practice, especially sword practice, is to be kept in the rehearsal hall. Do it again and I'll toss you out of here so hard you'll bounce."

A moment of pure fury seemed to eat its way across Raymond's face before he got it under control and stomped out of the room.

"Aaron, you don't understand, we don't have anymore flagons"

Talley looked at Jimmy like he'd lost his mind. "You've got to be kidding, we usually have ten of everything stored somewhere. If you have to, send someone out to the warehouse."

Jimmy shook his head. "Normally we would, but the intern we had over the summer ran a backend loader into them when we were storing stuff after the summer stock program. I could send someone out to try to buy some, but I don't know if they'll be able to find any in time."

Aaron rubbed at his forehead, obviously fighting off a headache. "Ok, send someone shopping and we'll go see if we can find something we can use for tonight if they can't find anything right away." Aaron turned to look at Yuffie and the prop man started slightly, just now realizing she was in the room with them. "If you want to wait and talk some more you can stay here, but I don't know how long I'll be.

Yuffie shrugged. "I'll wait for a bit. If I get bored I'll go off and find Vincent for you."

Aaron nodded and gestured at Jimmy to precede him out the door.

Yuffie basked in the silence for about fifteen seconds before boredom started to creep in. Never one to sit still for very long she started to wander the room, checking out the paintings, playing with the lights and sitting in Aaron's chair behind the desk, her feet up as she indulged in a brief fantasy where she was the boss. Maybe one where Vincent was her secretary?

Damn stupid blush, things could attack from nowhere.

She quickly dropped the fantasy and started spinning the chair around. On her third revolution she noticed a scrapbook shoved haphazardly into the bookshelf behind the desk. Curious she stopped and pulled it out, turning back to the desk so she could lay it down, since it was too large to comfortably look at with nothing but her knees to hold it up. She opened it at random, idly flipping through a few pages.

It seemed to be a collection of play reviews, all slightly yellowed by time. As she skimmed one, a line jumped out at her, causing her to read it out loud.

"And newcomer Vincent Valentine shows the potential to become a serious actor. We hope to see more from the young man." Yuffie snickered and flipped to the next page, hoping. She laughed outright as she found another review for a play that Vincent had been in. She read it eagerly, amazed at the words of praise he had earned.

Each page was another play and another triumph. For the first time she realized just how hard it must have been for Vincent to not be able to perform anymore. If he had this much talent he needed to get back out there and do more than just little parts. She nodded in agreement with herself, wondering if there was anything she could do to help him get back whatever it was he needed that would let him act like this again.

She flipped to the next page and got a bit of a shock. The play itself had a mediocre review, but they still loved Vincent. And with him they'd praised another actor who had distinguished himself that night.

Aaron Talley.

Yuffie was surprised. She'd known that Mr. Talley had been an actor, but she'd thought he'd given it up a long time ago. She smiled, amused at the thought that Vincent must have badgered him until he'd agreed to take to the boards one more time.

The next review had her wondering what the reporter had been drinking before he'd written it.

It seemed that the acting bug hadn't left after the last play and Mr. Talley had performed once again, but the writer had obviously gotten him and Vincent mixed up. How that could possibly happen she didn't know, but there was no way anyone would think that Aaron was younger then Vincent. The idea was ludicrous.

Of course, she'd never even heard of this play. For all she knew they may have been under a fair bit of makeup, makeup that had been used to fake the appearance of age perhaps?

She turned the page, now very near the end of the book.

There was a review for Hamlet.

It had been a hit, a triumph. No production of Hamlet had ever done it better. Or so the story ran. Yuffie felt her eyes cross as she noticed Aaron Talley listed as playing Horatio and began to wonder if maybe there wasn't another Aaron Talley out there, one who was currently an actor. Hmm, maybe even Aaron Talley Jr.? She knew the manager had been married before, more than once in fact, so it was quite possible his son and Vincent had taken the stage together.

So where was he now?

Yuffie shrugged and looked at the two articles on the next page and felt her blood freeze.

The first was about the car crash.

She'd never realized it had been that bad.

She read about the bad weather. About a drunk driver going too fast and ignoring traffic laws. About how the car had ended up wrapped around a tree. And how Vincent had crawled out of the car and attempted to free his fiancé from the wreckage.

Yuffie gulped. Fiancé? If Vincent had been engaged to be married then where was she now? Also, her name was familiar, for more than one reason and Yuffie looked back at the Hamlet review, noticing that she was the actress who had been playing Ophelia.

That similarity between the two of them made Yuffie feel, odd. It also confused her. Hadn't Rosella played Ophelia the last time they'd produced the play? Of course, she may have had to take over for the original actress, as it was likely she'd been injured in the accident, however...

Lucile Chandler was a name she recognized from elsewhere, a name she had seen on more than one play bill over the years, but it just wasn't possible. The woman was in her sixties now. There was no way she could have played across from Vincent. Aaron certainly, but not Vincent.

The second article on the page was just a little piece from two months after the accident that talked about her return to the stage and mentioned that Vincent was still in a coma and believed to be paralysed.

She turned to the last page and jerked away from it like she was avoiding a hissing cobra.

There, centred carefully on the page, all by itself, was an obituary.

Vincent's obituary.

SCENE 2

Vincent was doing his usual rounds of the theatre, but his mind was on Yuffie. He was sure she had already arrived and he was wondering if she would like to have lunch in the theatre or if they should go out. Raised voices from the stage dragged him away from his musing and he followed the sound until he found his friend Aaron furiously gesturing and talking with Jimmy.

"Well couldn't we just use a tray of goblets, he can just pick up another one instead of pouring more wine in the cup."

"The last time I saw a production do that," Jimmy told him, "the King forgot that he had to keep hold of the poisoned cup and changed to a fresh one."

"I'm sure King is more professional than that," Aaron said with a smile.

Vincent almost rolled his eyes, knowing that Aaron was forever tickled by the fact that King was the last name of the man playing the King.

Jimmy just shook his head. "Yes, he probably is, but do you really want to risk it?"

"Sigh, no I guess not. Why don't we own any metal flagons?"

"The theatre got rid of them seventeen years ago when one of the actors got lead poisoning." Vincent said, startling the two men. "So what's the problem?"

"Raymond tried to filet one of my set decorators with his sword, the stupid idiot. Like anyone would trust him near them, prop sword or not. Not after what happened to Nelson," Jimmy said, cracking his knuckles and generally looking like he wished he could belt the sword happy actor into next week's performance. "Doug was carrying the flagons for the sword fight scene at the end of the play at the time. Thanks to Raymond they are now great props if we ever decide to do a play about archaeologists digging for clay shards."

Jimmy looked like he would have settled into an even longer gripe session, but his attention was taken by a set decorator who waved him over to make a suggestion to their current problem.

Aaron shook his head as he watched him go. "I still say we should just use a bunch of cups, it would probably be alright for one night." He sighed again and looked at his wrist watch. "Say Vincent, aren't you supposed to be taking Yuffie out for lunch?"

Vincent's eyebrows flickered a quarter of an inch towards his hairline. "She told you about that?"

"Mm, we were talking just before all the flagon trouble. She may still be in my office. She was going to wait there a bit before going to look for you."

"Ah, thank you, I'll go see if she's ready to go out." With a little nod to Aaron Vincent turned and headed towards the office.

Aaron meandered slowly after Vincent. His friend reached the office long before him, but he could see disappointment in the lines of his body as he opened the door and looked in.

"Has she already gotten bored and gone off to look for you?" He called, still a fair ways away from Vincent.

"I suppose so," Vincent said with a little frown and stepped into the office. "Something doesn't feel right."

"Hmm?" Was Aaron's reply as he came up behind Vincent. He looked around, but nothing seemed out of place. The furniture was still where it should be, the pictures were still on the wall and his desk... Had a scrapbook sitting out on it.

"Damn," Aaron breathed the word out, his voice almost a whisper.

Aaron walked around Vincent and went to his desk, flipping the scrapbook open. As soon as he read the books title page he swore again, this time with volume.

"Aaron?"

"Damn, I'm sorry Vincent." The look on Aaron's face felt like a knife to the gut for some reason. "I was looking at this just before the 'incident'. I shoved back onto the bookshelf before the police came, but it was probably sticking out…."

Vincent came over, read the title page and said something unrepeatable in polite company.

Vincent Valentine, it read, 1965 to 1969

"Yuffie was alone in here with it?"

"Yes, and it was not on the desk when I left, she was definitely reading it."

Vincent closed his eyes in pain.

He could hear Aaron flipping through the book and opened his eyes when his friend inhaled in shock.

"What?"

"The obituary is missing."

Vincent was fairly certain that a knife to the gut would have been gentler.

SCENE 3

Yuffie was wandering the theatre in shock. It couldn't be true, there had to be a simple explanation for it. Vincent was too young to have been born in 1969, much less have died then. There had to be another Vincent Valentine, maybe even a relative. Sure, it could have been his father, no that wouldn't work. Maybe a grandfather?

Yuffie looked down at the obituary she held clutched in her hand and tried to reason with it. Vincent couldn't dead, she told it. He goes out to dinner with me, he walks me home, he kisses...

No, Vincent wasn't dead, so this couldn't be her Vincent.

She breathed in deep, finding reassurance in her line of logic. None of the reviews had pictures, they were just words. She needed to find some pictures.

Vincent had once told her, over one of their casual little dinners the first week they'd known each other, that the theatre almost never threw anything away. Even the posters and publicity photos were kept, stored in the basement in poster holders and filing cabinets.

If she wanted to find out what the Vincent Valentine in the obituary looked like, she'd have to go down there and dig out the old photos.

She hesitated a moment, not really sure she wanted to know. Was she really going to try to prove that the twenty something man she'd gone on a date with the night before hadn't been dead for close to forty years, what could be stupider than that?

It was dumb.

It was ridiculous.

It really was stupid.

But, she went anyway.

SCENE 4

It wasn't until she had made it into the bowels of the theatre and was searching for the filing cabinets that Yuffie remembered she had been trying to avoid the basement, in case of lame-o practical jokes.

This thought brought on two distinct reactions.

One was a sudden overwhelming sense of relief. The other was an intense need to bang her head against a wall.

She had just been gotten by the granddaddy of all practical jokes.

She let out an aggravated little arggggg and made her way back through the stacks of junk to the basement door.

Which was now locked.

Oh, she was going to hurt someone when she got out of here.

She backtracked the way she'd come, looking for another exit from the basement. She knew there had to be one. The building would never pass fire inspections if there weren't at least two ways off of each floor and that included the basement.

She was half way across the underground room when she came across the filing cabinets. She stuck her tongue out at them, planning to pass them by, but curiosity was, as ever, hard to ignore and she slowed and paused, before turning back to them. Reluctantly she started to look for the drawers that would cover 1965 to 1969.

She pulled one out at random, wondering why someone hadn't labelled the things in all these years. A quick flip through a few of the photos showed a costume style influenced by the fashions of the eighties and she slid the drawer shut with a sigh and moved further down the cabinets looking for a much earlier date.

A sound behind her caused her to whip around and she breathed hard for a moment, but when nothing manifested she turned back to the files.

The sound of tiny clawed feet off to her left had her slamming the drawer shut and seconds from bolting. If it were just mice she could handle it, but in a building this size it was probably rats and she didn't care what she'd find in these files, there was no way she was staying down here with..."

"May I help you with something?" A quiet, male voice asked.

"Eep!" Yuffie jumped and whirled, taking in the tall, lanky appearance of the man who had spoken. "Wha.. What are you doing down here?" She asked the man, whom she was sure she had never seen... well maybe never... actually when she took the moment to stop jumping she realized that he was somewhat familiar, for some reason.

"I work down here," he said, with a smile that softened the acute angles of his face.

"You do?" Yuffie hadn't heard about anyone working down here, of course she had been avoiding the basement due to the possibility of practical joke, but still.

He nodded in answer to her question. "I do. So, may I help you with anything?"

"Ah, sure," she said, backing away from him slightly. "I was looking for publicity photos from 1965 to 69 with... With Aaron Talley in them."

He gave a slight bark of laughter and moved several filing cabinets down the line and opened one. "Hoping to find a little blackmail material perhaps?" He asked her, his voice humorous.

"Oh, no, not really, I was just curious." Yuffie fidgeted while he looked through the files. "So, I'm Yuffie."

"I know," he said, before looking up from the file folders. Yuffie took another step back from him, wondering if that long overdue practical joke was about to be sprung on her, but he just turned back to the files.

"Most people call me Thing."

"Thing?" Why would anyone call another person thing?

"It's a nickname." He said to her unasked question and looked up at her again. "If you need some Thing from the basement or you need to know where some Thing is you just have to ask Thing. I know where every Thing is. And speaking of which." He pulled a photo out of one of the files and handed it to Yuffie.

"This was always one of my favourite photos of Aaron. You really believed he was drunk out of his gourd when he played the part."

Yuffie looked down and had to stifle a laugh. There was a picture of the theatre manager, a much, much, much younger theatre manager, who was wearing a top hat and tails with the stiff neck collar wide open, his pants down around his ankles and a bottle of booze in one hand.

"Do you, do you have any of him with an actress named Lucile Chandler?" Yuffie asked, wondering why she just didn't come out and ask for some of Vincent.

"Of course." And he pulled out a few more photos, handing them to her.

Mr. Talley was still in them, but in each of them he was playing across from an elegant, sophisticated and undeniably beautiful woman who seemed to carry a great air of sadness with her.

"Of course those are all from 1969, from after the accident."

Yuffie took a deep breath. "Do you have any of her from Hamlet?"

"Mm, but I don't have any with her and Aaron together, they didn't have many scenes that overlapped."

"Anything with her in it will do."

And he handed her a photo.

She was very familiar with the scene. It would have been just before the play within the play started. Lucile, as Ophelia, was sitting with Hamlet at her feet, looking up at her.

With Vincent at her feet, looking up at her.

Chandler wasn't sad in this photo, and Yuffie didn't think she'd ever seen anyone who looked as much in love as Vincent did.

"It can't be," she whispered, wanting, but not able to scream it out as a denial.

Thing just smiled at her.

"Of course it can."


	14. Chapter 14

Ownership I have not. Disclaimer full, Act 1 please see.

And In This Dream...

By Colleen

ACT 14

SCENE 1 (a few moments before Yuffie met Thing)

"Did she leave the theatre?" Aaron's voice was slightly out of breath as they had been checking the dressing rooms at high speed.

Vincent closed the door to the last dressing room and seemed to look inside himself for a moment. "No, she's still here; I'm just having trouble finding her."

"I thought you could find anything in this place."

Vincent shook his head. "No, I have a general sense of where things are, but if you want accuracy you'd have to ask Thing." His eyes shot wide for a moment as the sense of Yuffie is still here narrowed down to a more specific area.

"She's in the basement."

"What's she doing down there?"

"I don't know, but Thing is with her."

Both men looked at each other for a moment, and then they bolted for the basement stairs.

* * *

"What do you mean of course it can?" Yuffie yelled, tears threatening in her eyes. "This is all bullshit. It's just some stupid, hurtful, nasty little practical joke."

"No, it isn't a joke." Thing said quietly as he closed the filing cabinet drawer.

"Vincent isn't dead! I was on a date with him last night. I kissed him last night. He isn't, he couldn't be..."

"Actually, I am."

Yuffie whipped around to find Vincent standing there with a pained expression on his face. Aaron was several feet behind him, doubled over with his hands on his knees. His face was red and he was puffing hard in an attempt to regain his breath.

"Stop it, just stop it," she yelled. "It isn't true. It's just some stupid joke, so you can all laugh and just stop it.

"Yuffie"

"No!" She bolted past him and Aaron, managing to run through the piles of junk and up the stairs.

Vincent was somehow standing on the other side of the now unlocked door when she opened it.

Startled, she lost her balance and started to fall backward. Two arms grabbed hold and pulled her to a chest she had more than a passing acquaintance with.

Vincent held her tight, horrified at how close she'd come to being hurt.

"You're not dead," she said, her voice slightly muffled as her face pressed up against his chest. "We go out to dinner together, you walk me home at night, you ttttalk on the telephone and you kkkkissed me. You can't be dead."

Vincent sighed and manoeuvred them away from the steps, aiming them towards Yuffie's dressing room.

SCENE 2

His breathing almost back to normal, Aaron straightened up and glared at the Thing in the Basement.

"What?"

Aaron growled.

"Oh, come on, it wasn't like she didn't already know, she just didn't quite believe it yet. Besides, he needed to tell her."

Aaron nodded. "You're right, he needed to tell her, but he also should have been able to decide when to tell her."

"Not my fault, I didn't leave that scrapbook where she could find it."

Aaron sighed. "True." He narrowed his eyes at the 'man' in front of him. "There has been something I've been meaning to ask you about though."

"Oh?"

"Yuffie told me that Vincent got... for want of a better word I'll go with frisky, over the phone with her a couple of days ago."

"Oh, I can come up with a better word than frisky, like maybe..."

"Don't." The glare was back, full strength. "Vincent isn't the type to do that. Maybe thirty-seven years ago he might have considered it, but he's been celibate a long time. I have trouble believing that he'd suddenly jump into a relationship that way."

Thing had the grace to look embarrassed.

"What did you do?" Aaron asked him, now very annoyed.

"I... I nudged him."

"You nudged him?"

"Mm, well you know we're all connected right? Him, me and the theatre?" Aaron nodded. "We can influence each other when we need to, so I just….nudged him."

"It must have been one hell of a nudge."

"No, not really. I mean, he didn't do anything he didn't want to. It's just that… I sort of, just for a few moments…he...well…didn't really have any inhibitions."

Vincent without inhibitions, now there was a chilling thought.

"But only for a few moments. Just enough to get it started." A beat. "Are you going to tell him?"

Aaron's gaze could have iced over a river in summertime. "No, maybe I should, but no. Do something like that again though, and I will. We both know what would happen after."

Thing gulped slightly and nodded in agreement, turning an interesting shade of pale as he did. Vincent probably couldn't hurt him without hurting himself, but Vincent was Vincent. He wouldn't let something like that stop him, not if he ever truly became angry.

Aaron sighed and shook his head at the situation. He crossed his arms and leaned up against one of the filing cabinets, frowning slightly as he took a closer look at Thing. "Who are you supposed to be anyway?"

"Oh, I'm Willard."

Aaron's eyebrows took an express trip to the top of his forehead.

"You know, from the movie, about the guy with the rats he trains to kill people."

"Why did you pick that?"

"Hah, spend a few days hiding in the basement from the cops and pretending to be a rat infestation and see what you would pick. Besides, it's hard to open filing cabinets with oversized tentacles."

SCENE 3

Yuffie started to hiccup about half way to her dressing room. Vincent led the miserable and now slightly convulsing young woman through the door of her room and sat her down at her makeup table before going to get her a drink of water.

Yuffie wouldn't look at him when he handed her the glass. She did drink down the water, waiting a few careful moments after to see if she would start hiccupping again. When she didn't she sat the glass down on the table and finally raised her eyes to look at Vincent.

He looked just as miserable as she felt.

"So, Vincent," she said, her voice quiet and slightly hoarse. "Tell me something about yourself that I don't know."

"I died in 1969, as the result of a car accident."

Yuffie nodded. "So what are you?"

Vincent did a passable, if elegant impression of a fish, opening and closing his mouth without any sound coming out. He sighed and looked down at the floor. "There really isn't a name for what I am."

"Vampire?"

"No."

"Zombie?"

"No."

"Mummy?"

"Snort, most definitely no."

Yuffie took a deep breath. "Ghost."

Vincent didn't say anything for a moment, and then he let out a breath. "Not exactly."

"Right, but you are dead."

Vincent looked up at her. "Yes, I am. I died thirty seven years ago." She looked at him as if she were about to do her best not to believe him. "I don't eat Yuffie." The girl opened her mouth to protest, remembering several dinners they had eaten together, but he cut her off. "Have you ever actually seen me put the food into my mouth?"

She closed her mouth, thought for a moment, and then shook her head.

"I don't actually require sleep, I don't age, I..."

"You breathe, I know you breathe." Memories of panting breaths came easily to mind.

"Yes, but I don't really need to. My body was used to doing it and my brain remembers needing it, so I do, but..." He shook his head and spread his arms in a sort of a shrug.

She got up, walked over to him and started to poke him in the chest with each word she said next. "You. Have. A. Physical. Body."

A moment of silence. "Not exactly."

"Arrrgggggg!" She stomped once around the room. She stopped for a moment, looked at Vincent and then made another noisy circuit of the room before dropping back into her chair, dejected.

"So if you're dead, how are you here?"

"Ah, to explain that I need to get something out of Raymond's dressing room and I need your help to get it."

"You've got to be kidding."

SCENE 4

'I do not believe I am doing this,' Yuffie thought as she skulked down the hallway, following Vincent. Here she was, trailing after her almost, sort of was boyfriend, as they went to break in to Raymond 'Mr. Personality himself' Palmer's dressing room so Vincent could get something that would somehow explain how he was managing to date her when he was dead.

She shook her head at the thought. 'Great, I can see the talk show appearances now, My Boyfriend is a Phantom.' Unbidden the sounds of a popular musical that involved both phantoms and theatres drifted through her mind. She quickly squashed the notes into submission before they could trigger the slightly hysterical laughter lurking in the shadows of her mind.

At this point Yuffie was sure that if she could just drop kick someone to the floor and jump up and down on them she would feel so much better.

Of course, that someone was probably Vincent.

She focused on him, noticing that there was something different about the way he moved. He had always been a pleasure to watch, but now he was awe-inspiring. His walk was smoother, more like a glide and yet his body movements were somehow stiller. It was as if he had weeded out all unnecessary movements and anything even slightly awkward.

It was with a bit of a start to her system that Yuffie realized that Vincent had, until now, been trying to move as if he were...human.

Yuffie felt a cold hand wrap itself around her heart and she shivered. Vincent wasn't alive and Vincent wasn't human. She shook her head, denying both statements.

Vincent was a gentleman; Vincent was friends with Aaron Talley, Vincent...

Vincent was standing by Raymond's dressing room, looking back at her, his face unreadable.

Vincent was Vincent; she'd deal with the rest later. However, she still might give him a kick in the shin for good measure. But first, they had to do a little breaking and entering.

"So, how are we going to get into the room," Yuffie whispered to Vincent.

Vincent frowned slightly and turned the knob before pushing the door open.

"Oh."

"Why are you whispering?" Vincent asked at his usual volume.

"I didn't," Yuffie started, still whispering. She quickly cleared her throat and started over, speaking normally. "I didn't want anyone to hear us and what if Raymond had been in there?" She placed her hands on her hips and glared up at him.

Vincent smiled minimally. "Aaron told me Raymond stomped out of the theatre some time ago and there isn't anyone in hearing range at the moment. He ghosted through the open door.

Yuffie came in behind him and quietly closed the door. She tiptoed a few steps into the room before noticing that Vincent was watching her.

"What?"

He just raised an eyebrow.

She came close to stomping over to him (or was that stomp on him?)

"Haven't you ever heard of being sneaky?"

He looked at her with some strange combination of slightly sad and slightly amused.

"Yes, but I don't have to work at it." He slipped away from her, silent as a snowfall and in some strange way difficult to see. In fact, Yuffie wasn't sure she'd have noticed him in the room if she didn't already know he was there. He moved to the end of the space and turned back to look at her, waiting.

Yuffie fought off the sudden desire to shiver and moved after him. If she was going to get any answers, she had to see this through.

Vincent turned back to the wall and ran his leather-clad left hand along it before stopping and giving the wall a push in a spot that didn't look particularly special to Yuffie.

A click, crack, crunch noise came from behind the wall and Yuffie jumped as a little panel suddenly shot open, revealing a small dark space in the wall.

Vincent moved away and motioned to Yuffie to look into the space.

The hole wasn't very big, but it was easily large enough for the book that sat inside.

"You'll have to pick it up."

"What? Why?" Yuffie asked, stepping back from the little nook.

Vincent just sighed and reached in to grab the book. A sudden flash of light had Yuffie blinking spots from her eyes. When they cleared, she found Vincent halfway across the room looking as if he would dearly love to say a few choice words and shaking his right hand like he'd received a shock.

A big one.

"Are you okay?"

Vincent grimaced for a moment, but nodded. "I'm fine."

"But why did that do… that?" She asked, waving her arms about in an attempt to physically describe what had just happened.

"I can't touch the book Yuffie, not anymore. Only someone who's…" He paused, searching for the right word.

"Who's not dead?" Yuffie asked with a painful look on her face.

Vincent sighed, but nodded. "In a way, yes. Only someone who's... not dead can read it and prepare to use it."

"Prepare to use it?"

"Once you've used it the way I did you can't touch it. I'm not sure why, just that it protects itself."

"I am not picking that thing up!"

"Please Yuffie, It can't hurt you. Even if you read it, it can't hurt you. It's only if you actually use the information in it that everything changes. Even then, it's only if you go as far as I did with it."

The look on Yuffie's face had shifted to a more put out expression, but she turned back to the secret cubby-hole. Carefully, as if she expected a trap to clamp down on her hand at any moment, she reached in and grabbed the book.

She pulled it out with a little 'ha' and turned to show it to Vincent. She slammed herself backwards against the wall as she found herself nose to chest with him. He had come up behind her so quietly that she hadn't noticed him moving.

Vincent took a step back and inclined his head in apology. She swallowed suddenly as he reached towards her, but his left hand slid past her to press two fingers to that still unseen spot, working whatever mechanism closed the wall. Yuffie jerked slightly as she freshly notice the glove that had always hid that hand from view. As he pulled back, she reached up and gave the appendage a tap with two of her own fingers.

"I always thought that you wore this because you'd scarred your hand in the car accident."

Vincent looked at the hand, his face suddenly frozen as it if had been carved from glacier ice. Unexpectedly the leather glove exploded and Yuffie bounce her head off the wall behind her when she pulled away at the suddenness of it. Shreds of the black material orbited Vincent's hand and peering through the pieces Yuffie could see that it was completely normal.

So why did Vincent look almost sick?

"It's psychological, I guess. Even though I was in a coma for the most part, somehow I knew what had happened." The strips of leather sucked back to his hand, to become a glove again.

Yuffie knew with every fibre of her being that she really didn't want to ask the next question. If she hadn't been going into shock over Vincent's little trick with the glove she might not have, but her brain wasn't engaging fully at the moment, so her mouth went ahead and did it anyway.

"What was psychological?"

"The car was crushed in on the driver's side. The impact broke my ribs, my pelvis, and injured organs in ways I'm not willing to think about, much less describe. It also reduced my left arm to something that resembled a pebble-filled bag of flesh. They were forced to amputate it two days after the accident."

In her youth, Yuffie had once taken a shot put to the head during a track and field mishap. What Vincent had just told her hurt worse and stunned her more. Unable to think of anything to say Yuffie looked down at the book in her hands and blinked back the tears she could feel threatening to leak out of her eyes.

"Yuffie."

She shook her head and held the book up high enough that they could both see it.

"So, this is supposed to explain everything?" That hoarse croak couldn't really be her voice, could it?

"Mostly." Vincent wasn't sure if he should be relieved that Yuffie's didn't want to talk about it or not, but since he didn't want to either… He took in a deep breath that he technically didn't need and followed her lead to continue with the current problem at… hand. "We should return to your dressing room before Raymond gets back," he hesitated. "I could order some food in for you if you like. I did promise you a lunch after all.

The thought of food did not sit very well with Yuffie at the moment, so she shook her head no. Besides, if she said yes he might try to use waiting for the delivery guy and eating as a delaying tactic.

"No, explanations first. I don't think I could eat anything right now anyway."

A small smile crossed Vincent's face. "Well, there's a first time for everything."

Yuffie stared at him in shock, her mouth hanging open.

"You, you, you...Arrrggggggg."

Yuffie, it turned out, really was good at stomping… all the way back to her dressing room.

Vincent was, at least for a moment, amused. It may have been a cheap shot, but it was an acceptable amount of ribbing between friends and wouldn't be taken personally, or at least, not for very long.

More importantly, it would keep Yuffie annoyed at him, rather than freaking out about him. Not that he wanted Yuffie mad at him, but a mad Yuffie wasn't an afraid Yuffie.

Vincent closed his eyes, suddenly tired in a way he hadn't been for years. The crushing certainty that it wasn't going to work, that once he told her everything she would make sure to stay as far away from him and the theatre as possible almost overwhelmed him.

He grabbed that certainty, crumpled it into a small ball and slam-dunked it into a mental trashcan that was in dire need of emptying.

Maybe it wouldn't work, but he wasn't going to give up before he'd even tried.

"Okay, start talking."

Vincent looked around, surprised to see that they were back in Yuffie's dressing room. He really had been lost in thought.

"Well?"

"Sorry, I'm just trying to think of a good place to start. I haven't had to explain any of this since I told Aaron and that was a very long time ago."

"Why don't you begin with when you died," Yuffie said, hunching her shoulders.

"I could, but it isn't really the beginning. The beginning doesn't even start with me; it starts more or less in 1908 when Clyde Blackwell built this theatre." He gestured to the chair at her makeup table, and made himself comfortable against a wall while Yuffie sat down.

"He was in his late forties when he built this place. He was also quite wealthy. In fact one of the reasons this theatre is still a viable concern is that he set up a foundation to look after the theatre and left the bulk of his estate to the running of it."

"So he really loved the theatre," Yuffie asked, slightly annoyed at the round about way that Vincent was approaching this.

"Yes, I believe he did. He was also, besides rich, a serious student of the occult."

"Oh, come on!"

Vincent held up a hand that cut Yuffie off before she could go off on a rant.

"At that time it was fairly popular for the rich to dabble in such things, but Blackwell was serious, or at least more serious than most. He'd started as a young man and unlike others, continued with it even after he had gained wealth and the acceptance of his peers. When he turned forty five he began to worry about encroaching death and bent his studies towards finding a way to cheat the reaper, or at least, to outmanoeuvre him."

"And to that end he built this theatre."

Yuffie had to ask. "A theatre was going to let him live forever? I mean, some actors feel they achieve a type of immortality on the stage, but that doesn't sound like what he was trying for."

"True. Even though I have read that book," Vincent waved a hand towards the journal Yuffie still held in her hand. "I still don't really understand what it was that Blackwell managed to do with this place. No, that's not quite right, I understand what he did, I just don't really know how he did it."

"The book you're holding is his, journal I guess you'd call it. It explains, in detail, what he was trying to do with the theatre and how to make use of it, both as a living person and as a dead one."

"How can a living person make use of it?"

"This theatre is rather like a battery. If a living person could tap into that then they could use that power to control their aging and extend their life by decades, maybe even centuries."

Yuffie paled at the thought. "Centuries?"

Vincent shrugged. "Perhaps. I did talk Aaron into making use of it once. He did seem to stop aging for a time and a few age related complaints smoothed themselves out. Sadly, he doesn't seem to be willing to take that energy in on a regular basis, so it wasn't more than a temporary fix.

Yuffie had always thought that the manager was spry for his age. "Why wouldn't he just keep doing it?"

"Aaron's reasons are his own. Though I suspect he's afraid of ending up tied to the theatre the same way Thing and I are. He may love the place, but I doubt he wants to be stuck with it for an eternity."

Yuffie gulped. "An e e e e ternity?"

"Well, I doubt it would be that long, but close enough."

"Wait a minute, Thing, the guy downstairs, he's dead too?"

Vincent paused for a moment to mull that over. "Well, no." Yuffie sighed in relief. "He wasn't ever an actual person, so I guess he didn't ever die."

Vincent considered reaching over and closing Yuffie's mouth as she gaped at him, but he decided to leave her be. Besides, she might not want him touching her.

"As I said, the theatre is like a battery; it pulls power from the actors and audiences and stores it." He nodded at Yuffie's look. "Yes, it has pulled energy from you. Every time you act you willingly project that energy and it accepts it. Sometime it even pushes you to give more than you might normally have put out. That's why most of the actors that work here have excellent appetites and tend to sleep deeper than actors working in other theatres."

"Ewwww, it's been eating me?"

"More like tasting you, like it was licking an ice cream cone that had just gotten a little melted."

Yuffie rubbed her arms, suddenly cold. "Is it doing it now?"

Vincent shook his head. "No, it wouldn't take what wasn't offered. If you really didn't want it too, even when acting, then it wouldn't. It only takes if it has been offered, even if the person offering doesn't realize that they are offering."

"Ok, so what does this have to do with Thing?"

"Eventually, if the theatre doesn't use that power, it has to do something with it. Blackwell set that up as well. So it used the power to create Thing."

"Wait a minute, your telling me that a funky supernatural theatre used its slightly stolen spiritual power to create an archivist?"

Vincent had to smile at that, and however small the movement of his lips may have been, it was still a smile.

"In a way. Thing is actually the theatre's heart and because of that he generally knows everything that happens here and where everything is."

"Ok, so if Blackwell was planning to use the theatre that way, then why did he die?"

"He didn't."

"But... you said that he left his estate to the running of the theatre."

Vincent nodded. "Yes, he left the bulk of his estate to run it, but he didn't die. Thing thinks he originally moved to Paris, but he doesn't know if he's still there. He comes back every few years to make use of the theatre." He put both hands up in a stopping gesture before Yuffie could start in on a flood of questions. "I've never met him. I've never even seen him. Even Thing rarely ever sees him, but he knows when the theatre's energies are being used and Blackwell is the only living person, other than Aaron, who knows how to do it."

"Only living person. What about dead ones?"

Vincent almost fidgeted. "The book also explains how to use the theatre's power to 'save yourself' if death is inevitable." Yuffie gave him a look that plainly said 'continue.'

"You can set up a few fail-safes and pledge yourself to the theatre."

"What?"

"You have to willingly give energy to the theatre, which as an actor I did. You have to leave at least one personal possession in the theatre, which I did by accident when I lost a headband behind a makeup table. You also have to leave a part of your physical self, skin, fingernails, hair, anything that is part of the body in the theatre, or have it placed in the theatre after… well after. Then, if you have pledged yourself to the theatre you can have a second chance at an existence that isn't really being alive, but isn't really being dead either."

"But, what do you mean, pledge?"

"I came out of the coma just long enough at the end to realize that I was dieing of pneumonia. To be honest I didn't think it would work, but… I promised to be the theatre's guardian. To protect it. I also promised to do my best to protect those in it, as they are important to the theatre. To do this the theatre allows me the use of its energy, both to create and hold myself together as myself and to do flashy little things like disappearing from the basement and reappearing at the door to frighten already terrified actresses.

"I wasn't terrified," Yuffie said in a grumpy voice. "I was angry, there's a difference."

"Of course."

"I was!"

"I didn't say any differently."

Yuffie managed to not snarl at him and mentally chewed over what he'd just told her.

"Okay," she said finally. "So the theatre is weird. It soaks up power from the people in it and then that power is used by the person who built the place so he can live forever. But because there's so much power the theatre used it to create a whole other life form in the basement and lets you continue living, sort of, even though your dead and gives out temporary pick me ups to theatre managers."

Vincent felt like crossing his eyes at Yuffie's summary of their conversation, but he just nodded.

"Yuffie," he said quietly. "I can see that you still have a lot of questions for me. If I may suggest, read the journal. It will hopefully answer a lot of those questions. Once you have, if you are willing to talk with me again, I will try to answer any that are left over."

Yuffie looked down at the book clutched in her hand.

"Okay, but you had better be willing to answer a hell of a lot of questions."


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: Not mine, see Act 1 for full disclaimer.

And In This Dream...

By Colleen

Author's note: Just so you know, there's only one more chapter after this one.

ACT 15

SCENE 1

Yuffie collected her purse and the journal and left Vincent in her dressing room. Aaron got a quick nod to his asking if she was all right and then she headed out of the theatre. She walked a few blocks, needing to move without thinking for a time, before she stopped at a fast food place and went in to order a burger, fries and a milkshake. She spread her food out over the table of one of the restaurant's plastic booths and finally got to eat her lunch.

The journal sat on the seat beside her, feeling more and more like a trap. Her gaze was pulled to it every few minutes, and she knew she would read the thing, because the truth was, she didn't want know, but she did need to know.

She finished her food and was idly sipping at her milkshake, before she was actually willing to pick the book up and start reading.

It was a good thing that Yuffie didn't have to be back to the theatre until after dinner, because except to follow the call of nature and buy a few more food to keep from being kicked out, Yuffie didn't stop reading for a good five hours.

As she closed the book, she wasn't sure she understood anything any better than she had before she'd started it. She felt as if she'd just worked her way through a rather eccentric physics text. One that didn't so much theorize about the nature of the universe, but rather stated that nature outright. Worse, much of it seemed the opposite to how Yuffie had long believed the universe to work.

With a little sigh, she glanced at her watch. Yuffie made a cute little sound of shock, followed by a quiet swear word. Running close to being late, she quickly collected her things and bolted from the restaurant.

SCENE 2

Aaron had gone in search of Vincent as soon as he saw Yuffie head out of the theatre. He finally found him sitting in Yuffie's dressing room, looking like he might go to pieces, literally.

It had come close to happening a couple of times before. It had taken Vincent about five years before he'd pulled enough energy from the theatre that he'd started to feel more human than not. Aaron actually hadn't known that Vincent was part of the theatre until nearly four years after his friend's death. Their subsequent fight had been loud and emotionally painful. A pain that had only been mildly blunted by Vincent's explanations. That reunion had hurt them both, but it had damaged Vincent in ways Aaron hadn't realized at the time and he suspected that it had factored into the guardian's refusal to let Lucile know that he was still around.

Telling Yuffie the truth had the potential to do similar damage. Worst-case scenario, it could affect Vincent the way that playing a large and involved part could.

Aaron grimaced at the memory of what happened two years after their reunion. He had talked Vincent into taking a role, one the guardian had played before and still knew well enough that he could step into the part with no rehearsal. The part was perfect for Vincent, as the character was under enough face transforming makeup that no one would recognize him. Since both the original actor and his understudy were out with food poisoning, Aaron had little difficulty talking desperate management into letting a friend of his, who knew the role, take it over for the night.

It had been a disaster.

Actually, the play had gone off without a hitch. Vincent was as always a good actor. So good in fact that in a way he became who he played. The problem was that he wasn't alive in the same way that 'normal' people were and while the theatre's energies were helping him to be 'real', most of what allowed him his curious half life was his firm belief in who he was.

Even just playing at being someone else had almost shattered that.

It was weeks before parts of Vincent stopped fading in and out of existence (and boy did Aaron never want to see that again) and months before his personality stopped flickering between his own and the character's in the play.

"Vincent, don't you dare go fading out on me."

Vincent looked up at him. "Huh, don't worry; I have no intention of doing that to myself ever again. Besides, I still have to answer Yuffie's questions once she's finished reading Blackwell's journal."

Aaron wince, "You gave her that book?"

Vincent nodded. "I thought it best. I have a good memory, but it's been a long time since I read it and it isn't like I can reread it anymore."

Aaron shook his head, not knowing what to say to that.

"Actually Aaron, she's taking it better than I thought she would."

Aaron laughed. "Considering that you probably thought she'd have a screaming mental breakdown and hide on the other side of the world when she came out of it, then almost anything would have been better than how you thought it would be."

Vincent's lips moved in the tiniest of smiles. "True."

For a few minutes the two friends fell silent, both thinking their own thoughts.

"So, Vincent, are you still up for filling in for one of the courtiers or shall we just make do with one less body on stage."

Vincent looked at him for a few moments, thinking. "No, I'll still play the part. I wouldn't want to give up the chance to be on the same stage with Yuffie, even if we're hardly ever in a scene at the same time."

Aaron nodded. "In that case, don't forget to look the costume over before the play starts. Oh, and you might want to get out of Yuffie's dressing room in case she still needs a little space when she gets back. Getting ready to perform doesn't go well with looking for answers to questions about the true nature of the universe."

Vincent laughed slightly. "You should know. You tried to do just that after you read the book."

"That's exactly why I know it's a bad idea."

Vincent shook his head, and stood.

"You know Vincent, there are a lot of times that I wish I could offer to take you out and get you drunk."

"Aaron, there are lots of times I wish I could accept that offer." Vincent slight smile was suddenly devilish. "How about sometime we go out and I watch you get drunk."

The manager glared at Vincent. "I may be getting older Vincent, but my memory is still good. I do remember what happened the last time we did that."

"Ah, but Aaron I keep telling you I don't know how we ended up in Jersey and I have no idea where that iguana came from."

Aaron continued to glare at him, giving Vincent the distinct feeling that the manager didn't believe him.

Oh, well, Aaron always was a good judge of character.

SCENE 3

Yuffie dashed into the theatre, threw off a quick greeting to Dwight who was at his usual place by the door and made it into her dressing room in a controlled skid that would have made a race car driver envious if he could have actually pulled that off with an automobile.

She was both relieved and sad to find Vincent gone.

Not that she'd expected him to hang around for five hours while she ate and read. After all, he had theatres to protect and places to haunt.

Okay, that wasn't quite fair. Technically, he wasn't a ghost, at least not in the classical sense. In fact, he was right when he said that there wasn't a good word for what he was.

Yuffie dropped the journal on her makeup table and tried to mentally push her current turmoil into a little box in her mind to be reopened later. She wasn't completely successful, but it did allowed her the mental space she needed to change into her costume and become Ophelia, rather than spending the time worrying about Vincent.

Vincent had forgotten that one of the scenes he would be in with Yuffie was as part of the audience for the play within the play. It shouldn't have been a problem, but in his personal opinion, Raymond was still touching Yuffie more than he needed to for this scene. That and every innuendo that Hamlet uttered before turning it to something else seemed... sleazier than usual.

Even if Raymond seemed smarmier than he typically was, at least Yuffie's performance had now smoothed out. Her earlier scenes with Laertes and Polonius had been a bit jittery. Not enough to throw either of the actors or the play off, but nowhere near her normal delivery.

Vincent shifted his attention to the play within the play as it started. While he would prefer to keep watching Yuffie, it wouldn't do for his interest in her to be noticed by the audience. It might be normal for a courtier to pay attention to his prince and the lady he was with while waiting for the entertainment to start, but once it had his further attention on them would be noticed.

Never break the reality for the audience, or at least not unless its part of the play.

And so he very carefully played the part of a hanger on, whose entire attention was taken either with the play or with his King, once the man had bolted from the room, chased by his guilty conscious.

And eventually they got to the end of the scene.

SCENE 4

Yuffie was once again standing next to Vincent during the scene in the Queen's chambers. You could almost feel everyone, the actors, the audience, and, she realized with a little start, the theatre itself, holding their breath as Hamlet stabbed at Polonius through the tapestry. Everyone began breathing again when no one started bleeding and both the scene and act finally ended with Hamlet dragging Polonius' body away.

Yuffie left Vincent after that so she could go change for her upcoming scenes, where Ophelia goes mad after her father's death. Irene was already waiting for her so the costume change went without a hitch. Then she did her best to prepare herself and not fidget. She still had a long wait, as Ophelia didn't reappear until scene five of the current act. When she did, she would be quite mad and not just when the wind was from a certain direction. Since her character died off stage, her part would be done until they all took their bows.

"Get in the head space Yuffie. She's mad, bonkers. Her father was a controlling bastard and without him, she's lost it. Does she know that it was Hamlet that did it? Yuffie growled. She never could decide what had set Ophelia off from one performance to the next. With a huff, she threw herself into the chair in front of her makeup table.

That was when she noticed that the book was gone.

Yuffie felt the spit in her mouth dry up as she searched her makeup table, the floor under it and finally every possible place in her dressing room that something the size of that book could be.

Nothing.

She was starting to feel a little giddy with a not altogether unreasoning sense of terror and somewhere in the back of her mind, she added fear to why Ophelia had gone mad. She was searching under her makeup table for the third time when a knock at her door announced that she was on in five. It surprised her so badly that she cracked her head on the underside of the table. Rubbing at her head, she winced and left for the stage, hoping that Vincent had simply retrieved the book. Of course, she was conveniently ignoring the fact that he couldn't even touch it.

She played her scene out with the Queen and then her final scene with Laertes with an edge of lost desperation that suited the character, and then headed back to her dressing room, intending to rip the place apart if she had to in order to find that book.

Vincent standing by the door of her room caused her to stutter to a halt.

"Yuffie?"

"Ah, Vincent." She wrung her hands in a most painful manner.

Vincent gave her a look of concern. "Is there something wrong Yuffie."

Yuffie pulled herself together and gave him a look that could wither grass.

"I mean something more wrong than what already was wrong." Yuffie blinked slightly as she tried to follow the ins and outs of that sentence.

For a brief, very brief moment, she considered trying to bluff. With a snort she realized just how likely it was that she'd succeed in fooling Vincent. Instead, she decided to answer a question with a question.

"Vincent, did you take the book back?"

Vincent's look of concern sharpened. "No, of course not. I can't even touch it, remember?"

Yuffie looked sick as she nodded.

"Where did you see it last?"

"On my makeup table," Yuffie told him, not looking up at him as she tried to find something interesting to look at on the floor.

Vincent took in a breath and let it out with a whoosh. "Let's check there again. Sometimes the theatre likes to move things without letting anyone know. If it did, it may have put it back again."

Yuffie looked up, a hopeful expression on her face. She nodded to Vincent and unlocked her dressing room door so they could enter.

Unfortunately, the book still wasn't there.

They tore the room apart, but they still didn't find it. Both of them were standing in the disaster area of her dressing room, breathing hard and looking around for other places to search, when the five-minute warning for the curtain call was quietly announced through her door. Vincent gestured for her to go out and accept her bows, intending to take the time alone to try to sense where the book had gotten to. After a moment, he gave up. He could almost just catch a feeling that told him it was still in the theatre, but the sense of it slipped away like moonbeams through glass.

He'd have to go check with Thing.

Not wanting to dodge the returning actors, he used his 'shortcut', disappearing from the dressing room and reappearing in the basement.

"Thing?" He called.

"Thing, it's important!"

"Ehhh, what's up doc?"

Vincent turned towards the voice and blinked for a moment before rubbing at his eyes and looking again.

He really shouldn't be surprised by anything Thing decided to be, but somehow a five foot tall talking rabbit with an apparent carrot fetish was still startling.

"You're..." He pointed at Thing, unable to finish his sentence.

"Yup, so how can I help ya?"

Vincent gave his head a shake, dismissing Thing's latest incarnation. "Blackwell's journal, I gave it to Yuffie to read and now it's disappeared from her dressing room."

Thing look startled and gave the carrot he was holding a worried gnaw.

"I'm having trouble telling that it's even in the theatre anymore." Vincent told him. "I was hoping you might be able to locate it."

"Sure ting doc."

Thing closed his eyes, but only for a moment. They flashed open, obviously startled and he lost the Brooklyn accent he'd had moments before. "I can't get a hold on it. You're right it is still in the theatre, but…" The look of frustration on his cartoon face was very strange to see. "When I approach it, it's like my mind is skating across something wrapped around it." His eyes widened as he realized something. "I've never actually bothered to mentally feel for the book before, since you always leave it in the cubby-hole. It has the same… misdirection I feel just before the theatre's power is siphoned off every few years. I think it's protecting itself the same way Blackwell does when he visits."

"Great." Vincent looked up at the ceiling, as if he could see through to the floors above. "Look for it down here and give me a call if you find it. I'll take the main floor" Thing gave him a nod and Vincent disappeared.

Vincent reappeared in Aaron's office, making the man jump and scatter paperwork across his desk and over the floor.

"Damn it, Vincent!"

"Sorry, but we have a little problem."

Aaron felt a shiver run down his spine. When Vincent the 'Master of Understatement' said they had a 'little' problem it was probably time to panic or start praying.

Or both.

"Have you seen Blackwell's journal, we seem to have misplaced it."

When you thought about it, it was amazing that something as innocent sounding as a missing book could cause the blood in a man's veins to attempt to freeze.

"Say what?"

"It was in Yuffie's locked dressing room, now it's gone, and neither I nor Thing can figure out where it is other than it's still in the theatre."

The thought of that book in the wrong hands had given Aaron nightmares at one time. He wasn't too happy with the thought that they might be about to come true.

Wait. "You said locked dressing room?" Vincent nodded; he'd checked the door a time or two between scenes himself. While he hadn't thought that Yuffie's stalker would try anything the first night back, he didn't want to take any bets on he or she being that smart.

"It could be Yuffie's stalker. I'll check with Thing again. I think he knew who was doing it, he just doesn't like to give up theatre secrets, even to me."

Both men's attention was briefly taken up by the sound of many people talking as the audience started to leave the theatre.

"Aaron, could you go help Yuffie look for it up here until I get back? I don't... I don't want her unprotected."

Aaron nodded and headed out of the office, barely even noticing as Vincent seemed to pop out of existence.

SCENE 5

Vincent staggered as he reappeared in the basement and reached out to catch his balance on a shelf of small prop items.

He was over doing it. While the theatre let him use its power in exchange for being its protector, there was only so much he could store within himself. It was one reason he didn't apparate very often, preferring misdirection, stillness and silence to move around unseen.

He wouldn't be able to teleport too many more times tonight.

"Thing!"

Vincent weaved through the towering piles of useful junk to find Thing standing in the middle of it all, muttering something about left turns and Albuquerque.

"Thing!"

"Gahhh, don't do that Vincent."

It was really too bad that the situation was so serious, because Vincent actually startling Thing was a moment to cherish... as well as snicker over.

"Any luck?"

Thing shook his head, rabbit ears bouncing around as he did.

"Thing, whoever has it took it from Yuffie's locked dressing room." He waited a couple of beats. "Could it have been her practical joker?"

Thing shook his head. "I don't know. If she did, she wouldn't know what she has."

Vincent froze at Things words. "She?"

Thing nodded and when Vincent opened his mouth to ask his next question he nodded again before it could be asked.

Vincent swore under his breath as he took off through the basement, heading for the stairs.

Aaron found Yuffie in her dressing room. While waiting for Vincent to come back she'd done a quick change out of her costume and fixed the worst of the mess they'd made of her dressing room. Aaron explained what Vincent was doing and together they started to search as much of the theatre as they could while attempting to avoid changing actors and milling well wishers.

They checked the stage first, which was still dressed for the final fight scene. Aaron was amused to see that the prop's department had finally chosen to use a giant silver punch bowl to hold the wine. It wasn't a bad choice, but he'd make sure that they got some useable flagons by the next night.

Aaron flicked the thought away. Worry about the book first, props later. If someone really stupid or really evil got hold of that thing there might not be a later, at least for the theatre.

Blackwell wasn't stupid; he knew that something like this theatre could become dangerous. To that end, the book also instructed the reader on how to do an emergency self-destruct release of all the theatre's built up energy. Done slowly and carefully this might not have been a bad thing. Done all at once it would destroy the theatre, the buildings closest to it, and everyone in the immediate area.

"It's not here Aaron." Yuffie said, still sounding sick at heart.

"Mmmm." He thought for a moment and sighed. "I don't like to do it, but I'm going to bring Dwight in on this." Yuffie looked at him as if he'd lost a few screws. "Heh, don't worry. I think Vincent and I are the only ones who know, but Dwight was quite the pickpocket in his day and he hasn't lost his touch. Even if he can't grab it, he'll notice if anyone tries to leave with it, no matter how well they try to hide it."

Yuffie shook her head. How many more hidden things would she learn about the people in this theatre? "I'll check the green room while you do that."

Aaron agreed and they each went their separate ways.

SCENE 6

Aaron and Yuffie were just heading back from their self-appointed errands when they and amazingly enough, several other members of the theatre, noticed Vincent as he walked by. The manager raised an eyebrow at the sight. He didn't think he'd ever seen his friend take so little care when moving through the building. Something had him seriously pissed off.

Vincent opened the door to dressing room two with a push that almost blew the poor thing from its hinges. Once Yuffie and Aaron got over their immediate shock, they raced to join him. They found Vincent searching the room, none to gentle at it as he scattered clothing and small items across the floor.

"Vincent?" Yuffie asked from a defensive position slightly behind Aaron.

"It was Rosella," Vincent said, his voice slightly muffled as he was checking under the makeup table at the time.

Yuffie stepped up beside Aaron, her expression clearly confused. "Why would Rosella want to come into my dressing room in the first place, much less bother to take a book?"

Vincent straightened up and looked at her. "She's your stalker, the one you've been passing off as a practical joker."

The sound of silence in the room was almost deafening, even though that quiet held no longer than the time it would take the human heart to beat three times. Then there was a shuffle of sound as Aaron took a careful sideways step away from Yuffie, hoping to not get caught in the explosion.

"You mean, she, but... how, why would she...grrrrrrrr!" Yuffie's sudden impersonation of a pit bull had Aaron taking another much larger step away from her. "That, that, that," Yuffie took in a deep breath. "THAT BITCH!"

Yuffie stormed into the dressing room. She yanked open the door to the closet and rifled through its contents until she pulled out a chic little jacket and an even chicer purse that matched.

"She's still in the building." She casually dropped the two items, letting them fall to the floor and stepped over them as if they were garbage. She stalked out of the room and Vincent and Aaron could hear her grabbing each person she could find and grilling them on Parsons whereabouts.

Aaron took another step further into the room, figuring that, at the moment; anywhere Yuffie wasn't was a safer place to be than somewhere that Yuffie was.

SCENE 7

Rosella was out on the stage, intending to use the opportunity of Jimmy Rays weekly post production rundown and pep talk to turn that talent-less little nobodies gift into a soggy, unrecognizable mess.

She'd seen the brat coming out of Raymond's dressing room, clutching what was obviously a gift from him. When she'd had the chance late in the performance she'd entered Yuffie's dressing room, using her master key, the one she'd managed to have copied from an original that had been so well used that its 'do not copy this key' engraving had long since worn off.

She'd gotten a lot of use out of that key in the last few weeks.

When she entered the room she had immediately recognized the item that Yuffie had been holding as the same as the thing sitting on her makeup table.

If she'd been anyone else, she would have been surprised that it was a book. However, in the last two years that she and Raymond had performed together they also had an on again, off again relationship, that, while being mostly sexual had still taught her more about Raymond than he'd realized. One thing she knew about Raymond, was that he loved old books. She had spent more than one bored afternoon with him rummaging through second hand book stores as he scoured the shelves for anything he hadn't already seen. He rarely found anything new, which was probably why he never seemed to buy much, but it was also why Rosella understood that him giving someone a book as a gift was a serious matter.

The little bitch had already gotten the part she was supposed to play; there was no way she was going to get the man that already belonged to her.

To that end, she was going to use the lovely silver punch bowl full of cranberry juice that was pretending to be wine. The monstrosity to good taste was still waiting with everything else on the set for the stagehands to shift for tomorrow's performance. It would make a perfect bath.

The book was quite old after all, surely it needed cleaning?

She was just hovering over the bowl, wondering if she should plunk the whole thing in or let it soak up juice one torn page at a time, when she felt someone grab the wrist of the hand that was holding the book and use that grip to twist her arm suddenly and painfully behind her back.

She shrieked and dropped the book. It skimmed between her and the body of whoever was holding her and fell to the floor, landing with its pages open as if it was imitating an injured bat that had come up against a wall unexpectedly.

Rosella attempted to spike her assailant foot with the three inch heel of her designer shoes and was a least partially successful as she heard a male voice behind her grunt in pain. Then the man's other hand grabbed the back of her head and he shoved.

For a moment, something so brief it almost wasn't noticed, Rosella didn't understand what was happening, as wet fruity coolness enveloped her face. She struggled as soon as she realized that the bastard wasn't letting her up. With her free hand, she tried to upset the bowl and was rewarded with a moment of air as her assailant let go of her head so he could grab onto her flailing arm. Holding both of her limbs, he pushed himself against her and using the weight and leverage of his body and the hold on her arms, he managed to push her face back into the punch.

She tried to kick, she tried to heave him off her, she even tried to upset the bowl with just her head but the stupid thing was old silver with an ornate base and was heavy enough that it took two men to move it comfortably.

But, she still fought.

It took her several minutes to die.

SCENE 8

Yuffie finally found someone who had seen the other actress heading towards the stage. She stormed down the hall, still angry enough to chew nails and spit bullets. Vincent and Aaron followed after, having cautiously rejoined her when they thought a little of her edge had been worn down.

As they took the stage, the two men were focused more on the girl in front of them then on anything else. Still, it was a surprise when Yuffie skidded to a stop at the edge of the stage. Enough of a surprise that both men almost ran into her and ended up tangling themselves in the curtaining in an attempt to avoid bowling the young woman down.

"One woe doth tread upon another's heel, so fast they follow." Yuffie's suddenly hollow voice said as the two men attempted to untangle themselves.

"What?" Vincent asked, wondering why Yuffie was suddenly quoting from the Queen's lines.

"It looks like you really can do a drowning scene on stage." Yuffie sounded like a woman who was rapidly going into shock.

Vincent finally freed himself from the curtain and saw what she did.

Then they were both moving, taking the stage at a speed that surprised even Vincent.

Rosella's face was still in the punch bowl. Whoever had placed her there had done their best to prop her up against the table so the weight of her body wouldn't immediately overturn the basin.

Vincent pulled her out but Yuffie stopped him from laying her down. Vincent took most of the body's weight from the front, while she quickly wrapped her arms around the other woman and heaved. Yuffie may have been small, but she was strong. She performed an abominable thrust four times in a few seconds. Fruit juice gushed out of the Rosella mouth the first two times, tickled out the third and did nothing on the fourth. Then Yuffie let Vincent lay her down.

Yuffie made a quick check for breath and a pulse then pulled Rosella's head back and pinched her nose before breathing into her mouth in an attempt to resuscitate her. Aaron had reached them by that time and made his own check for a pulse, starting CPR when he didn't find one.

"Vincent!"

Yuffie said his name and somehow conveyed her entire message to him. He nodded before taking off back stage. He skidded to a stop in front of Dwight, scaring the man more than he ever had when he'd snuck up on him.

"Call 911 and tell them we have a drowning victim." He told the startled man.

"What?"

"Just do it. Yuffie and Aaron are attempting to resuscitate." He waited only long enough to see Dwight pick up the phone before heading back to the stage.

SCENE 9

CPR is more about keeping the victim's blood oxygenated and moving through the body by way of chest compressions and artificial respiration. This helps to stave off brain damage until more serious help can arrive. Knowing this Yuffie didn't really expect anything to happen until after the Paramedics arrived. Therefore, she was truly startled when Rosella's body suddenly arched up and a wet gurgling sound came from her throat. She and Aaron quickly turned the older woman on her side. More fruit juice came up and the woman attempted a ragged breath that set off an extended coughing fit as her lungs started to work again.

Vincent made it back to the stage just as the coughing started. On his way back, he'd stopped long enough to grab the first aid kit and the blanket that was kept with it. He handed the blanket to Aaron who used it to wrap the now shuddering woman.

Yuffie rubbed Rosella's back through the blanket, trying too help warm up the shocky woman. "Rosella, who did this?"

Rosella turned to look at Yuffie and blinked. She blinked again as she realized that one of the people who had saved her was a woman she'd been trying to hurt for the last few weeks.

Then she burst into tears.

Yuffie just held her, rocking her slightly as the woman cried herself out.

'Nnnever saw them, ccccame up behind me." She shuddered. "Too strong." She hiccupped, having swallowed too much air during her crying jag and started to cough again, which started more tears.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Shhh."

Vincent stayed with the two women as Aaron went back to talk with the arriving paramedics and the police.

Rosella hiccupped again and her body gave a little jolt. "Your book, I'm sorry I took your book. I dropped it when he grabbed me. I don't know were it is." It may have been stupid, but suddenly she had to return Yuffie's book. If she never did anything right again she had to do this, she had to fix something.

"It's okay Rosella, I'll find it later."

"But."

"Shhh, it's okay, Vincent and Aaron will help me look for it. It's probably around here somewhere."

Vincent was in fact already searching the stage for it.

"No, not okay, not okay, not..."

"I found it." Vincent's quiet voice was still loud enough to be heard by the two women and Rosella let out a sigh of relief.

At least she'd managed to fix that much.

Which was just in time, because suddenly the paramedics where there poking and prodding and hooking her up to oxygen. Time started to weave in and out for Rosella and it seemed as if they had strapped her onto a gurney and loaded her into an ambulance in a matter of seconds.

Then time just wandered away altogether as Rosella Parsons realized she was safe, and gratefully took the opportunity to pass out.

SCENE 10

While the paramedics were busy with Rosella and Aaron was talking with the police, Yuffie sidled over to Vincent. A quiet whisper and Yuffie was pulling the old book out from under the King's throne. Taking in the line of sight from the punch bowl to the throne, Yuffie suspected that the book had been kicked there during Rosella's struggles.

She might be really, really annoyed with the older actress, but she still hoped she'd hobbled or maimed whomever her attacker had been.

At the very least, it might make finding the bastard easier.

Yuffie took a calming breath in and then let it out. She'd get angry later. Right now, it looked like tonight was going to be an even worse replay of the night Nelson was stabbed.

She stifled a sigh as she saw Detectives Wilder and Spencer join the chaos on the stage.

Sometimes she hated being right.

The detectives didn't even try to question anyone at the theatre. As soon as Ms. Parsons was on her way to the hospital, they rounded up as many police cars as they could and even called in a couple of vans and simple transported the whole mess back to the station.

The night was long, made longer by the fact that the questions were similar to ones they had all answered a few days ago, they just involved other people.

Through unspoken consent Yuffie, Aaron and Vincent failed to mention their belief that Ms. Parsons was Yuffie's stalker and explained Yuffie's strident search for Ms. Parsons by explaining that Rosella had borrowed a book from her that she had originally borrowed from Mr. Talley. Mr. Talley had wanted to return it to his office safe for over night keeping, as it was an important part of the theatre's history.

They didn't show them the book, didn't even mention finding it. They couldn't risk that it would be taken in as evidence since it had been found at the crime scene. Yuffie did manage to pass it off to Aaron, and he'd slipped the thing into an inner pocket of his jacket.

They also, thankfully hadn't had to explain the state of Rosella's dressing room. Vincent made a trip to the bathroom that he used to zap himself into the dressing room. It turned out that the guardian could put a room back together again almost as fast as he could take one apart. Before the officer that had escorted him to the toilet could even get suspicious, Vincent finished and was back and washing his hands when his escort looked in on him. Directly after that they were all transported to the police station.

They were finally let go and trailed out of the station at some ungodly time in the morning. Their lawyer, looking fresher than anyone had a right to at that time of day kept pace with them.

Ira looked at the group, noticing that even the unflappable Vincent seemed to be stretched a little thin. The other two looked lucky to be standing. Aaron's skin had grown a bit pasty and his eyes were sunk in by the dark circles that surrounded them. The young lady appeared to have been hit by the sleep stick and it was only the fact that she was sandwiched between the two men that was keeping her upright and on her feet.

"Aaron, ay I offer the three of you a ride home?"

Aaron gave Ira a look of pure gratitude. "That would be very welcome, thank you Ira."

Aaron took the seat up front with the lawyer and gave a quiet smile when he saw a tired Yuffie snuggle up beside a slightly flustered Vincent in the back seat.

Other than Aaron telling Ira to take the three of them to his place, no one talked. Anything really important would have to wait until they were alone and anything else just wasn't worth the energy that it would take to form the words.

Yuffie drifted in and out of a half sleep on the trip, cuddled up to Vincent and too tired to worry about what he was, what he thought about her and even how she felt about him. None of that was more important than being held by him.

The drive seemed short to her and she was surprised to see an unfamiliar building as she stumbled out of the lawyer's car.

"This isn't my place," she mumbled sleepily, rubbing at her eyes in an attempt to wake up."

"No, its mine." Aaron told her. "After what happened tonight I would feel better if you stayed here." He noticed that she was about to protest and quickly continued. "Besides, we still have lots of things to discuss, or at least you and Vincent do and we need to find out what's going on in our theatre." The last was said with a lot more power and Yuffie suspected that if Aaron hadn't been exhausted he would have been growling.

"Okay. " She let Aaron drag her and Vincent into his incredibly huge and no doubt over priced apartment. He showed her into a guest room and she managed to get her shoes and pants off before she climbed under the covers of what seemed like one of the most comfortable beds she had ever experienced. She was just going to rest for a few minutes, and then they would get to thrashing out…"

She was asleep before she could even finish that thought.

Once he was sure that Yuffie was done for the night, Vincent dragged his friend into the suite's master bedroom and pointed the man towards the bed. "I have to go back to the theatre." The manager dropped onto the mattress before taking a good look at his friend. He hadn't realized until now just how pale and drawn he looked.

"Do you want me to call you a cab?" If he were more awake the absurdity of Vincent actually taking a cab somewhere would have made him laugh, but now nothing was really funny.

Vincent just shook his head. "I can make at least one more jump." Aaron looked at him as if he didn't really believe him. "I have to get back there and soon Aaron, I've done too much tonight and I've been away to long on top of it."

"That's just one more reason not to use energy doing that transporting thing."

"Even if it drains me, I'd rather not have anyone know for sure that I went back there. Cabs can be traced. Besides, I'll use just as much power doing the jump as I would spending more time away." Vincent looked off towards the room where Yuffie was sleeping. "Tell her I'll see her at supper time. I'd come back for lunch, as I think I still owe her one, but she'll need more sleep than that."

Aaron nodded and he would have wished his friend a good night, but Vincent took advantage of his acceptance to pop out of existence, leaving his friend starring bemusedly at the empty space before him.

SCENE 11

Vincent appeared in the basement of the Marionette Theatre. Well, it might be more correct to say that Vincent crashed to the floor in a heap in the basement of the Marionette Theatre.

A slightly scuffed shoe started to tap its foot near his head and Vincent looked up to find that Thing had changed back to the, to use Yuffie's description, archivist.

"You really do get yourself in a mess Vincent."

"Arrggg." Was about all Vincent could manage.

"Did you at least manage to find the book?"

"Uhhh."

"Oh good, so where is it."

"Aryn."

"Well I suppose if it isn't safe with the theatre's manager it isn't safe with anyone."

"Mmmm."

Thing shook his head at him. "Nice talking with you as always Vincent."

"Huhhh."

And even though Vincent didn't really need it, Thing dragged out a blanket and draped it over the worn out guardian before leaving him to get some rest.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: It is what it is, and as such, they are not mine.

And In This Dream...

By Colleen

Author's note: Yep, it's the last chapter. Thanks for sticking with it.

ACT 16

SCENE 1

Yuffie was very confused when she woke up the next afternoon. That was not her ceiling, these weren't her pillows and this most definitely wasn't her bed.

And, where were her pants?

She took in the fact that she was at least alone in the bed before sitting up and attempting to rub the sleep from her eyes. A glance at the floor solved the mystery of her pants and she grabbed them, shoving them on over her legs as fast as she could. She was just pulling on her shoes when she noticed that the room she was in came with a small bathroom and she quickly made use of the facilities. Feeling slightly more human, she made her way to the bedroom door and opened it. Finding herself in a hallway, she followed it out into a living room.

She let out a relieved breath when she found Aaron, already dressed in his usual suited attire and sitting on a couch, surrounded by drifts of newspaper.

"Good afternoon."

Yuffie made an affirmative noise that didn't really translate out as language.

"There's brunch on the table if you want anything."

Yuffie staggered over to the table and filled a plate with the offered bread, cheese, fruit and sliced meat. There was a small pitcher of orange juice on the table as well and she poured herself a glass, taking a sip before starting in on the food.

When she was about half way through eating she looked up at Aaron, who was attempting to put the newspapers back into some semblance of order.

"Vincent?"

"He had to return to the theatre. He said he'd try to make it back around supper time."

She nodded and continued eating.

"I'm afraid the theatre's going to be closed a lot longer this time, not that I blame them," Aaron said with a sigh.

Yuffie knew that ought to concern her. The lack of funds to pay bills and rent at the very least, should have given her a slight sense of panic. However, after last night, she was simply too tired to put the effort into worrying about it.

"Rosella's still in ICU, but she's stable."

Yuffie nodded again and finished up the last bite of her food.

Aaron was getting slightly worried. Yuffie was generally a talkative young woman, this extended silence was concerning.

"What?"

Aaron blinked at her first word since she'd asked about Vincent.

"You were so quiet. I was getting worried."

"Couldn't talk, eating." She got up, took her empty plate into the kitchen, and then wandered into the living room. The doorbell rang just as she was preparing to drop into the cushy looking chair that matched Aaron's sofa.

Aaron groaned and hauled himself out of the couch. Yuffie looked longingly at the chair, but decided to stay standing.

SCENE 2

Raymond Palmer was just about the last person Aaron wanted to find standing at his door.

"Raymond, what can I do for you?"

"I just stopped by to get my... Oh." His voice trailed off as he noticed Yuffie in the living room. "Hello Yuffie," he said, his voice somehow flat.

Yuffie gave him a wave to acknowledge his presence and wondered if she could go hide in her room while he was here.

"I didn't realize you were doing her Aaron, oh well." Raymond said to the manager quietly.

Aaron bristled at his statement, suddenly wanting to cave the actor's face in.

Yuffie hadn't heard what Raymond said, but from the shift of Aaron's body from slightly annoyed to outraged, it couldn't have been anything good.

"What did you want Raymond?" The manager's voice was icy.

"Oh, right, I've come for my book."

"Your what?"

"My book, the one I've been trying to find for the last two years. The one that stupid bitch was planning to drown in that punch bowl." He laughed. "Of course, she was the one that drowned." He looked over at Yuffie. "You should have just left her dead you know, she would have if it had been you."

Yuffie gaped at him in horror and Aaron tried to take a step back and slam the door on the actor, but Raymond was just a little faster and he shoved the manager back into his apartment. The actor came all the way into the space and quietly closed the door behind him.

"Now, about my book."

"We don't know what you're talking about Raymond." Yuffie said as she came up to help Aaron with the madman before them.

"Oh, please, I saw you fish it out from under the throne while Aaron kept the police busy."

"Raymond," Yuffie started again.

"My book." There was a flash of a black matt finish as Raymond pulled a gun from the small of his back and pointed it at them. "My book or I'll put a bullet through the head of your silly little slut. " Raymond pointed his statement at Aaron and the gun at Yuffie.

No fool, Aaron grabbed Yuffie before she could attempt to leap at the armed actor to claw his eyes out.

"Raymond, you don't understand what that book is."

"Of course I do. Do you think I'd have spent the last two years looking for it if I didn't? Do you think I would have resorted to trying to off that ham actor a few nights ago just to get the theatre to react and give me some kind of clue to where it was hidden?

Aaron and Yuffie looked at the actor, their faces blanked of all emotions except shock.

Raymond snorted in amusement, before a quizzical look came over his face. He reached out with the gun and tapped Aaron in the chest, hitting something more solid than flesh. The move snapped the actress and manager out of their surprise.

"Ah, you're still carrying it around. Well, I don't suppose I'd do any different."

While Raymond was busy discovering the whereabouts of the book, Yuffie slowly slid her hand into the pocket of her jeans. Carefully she pulled out the one thing she rarely left home without and had actually made double sure she'd had on her given what had happened to Rosella last night.

"Raymond," she said quietly, needing the man's attention on her.

He sighed and looked at her. "What?"

"Get stuffed," she introduced his face to her personal protection item.

Also know as pepper spray.

Aaron gave the now screaming man a shove and briefly considered grappling for the gun, but suspected he'd just get a bullet in the gut if he tried. Instead, he grabbed Yuffie and forcibly dragged her from the apartment.

He hauled her down the hall, slapping the button to the elevator with the palm of his hand, even though he expected that it was several floors and too many minutes away. The doors slid open, surprising Aaron as it was one of the few times he could remember the elevator actually being there when he was, although it had probably just not been call for since Raymond had come up. He flung the both of them into the car and hit the button for the lobby.

"Aaron, he, he..." Yuffie couldn't pull the sentence together.

"I know." Aaron started to shake a little, as the adrenalin that had helped him a few moments ago wore off. He leaned against the wall of the elevator for extra support while racking his brains, trying to figure out what to do.

"We have to call the police."

Aaron shook his head. He'd like to, he really would, but the thought of Raymond sprouting off whatever he knew about the book and the theatre terrified him. He'd like to think that the police would just write it off as the ravings of a madman, but somehow he thought that Detectives Wilder and Spencer would still look into it. And the two of them poking around at this secret was something he wanted to avoid.

"If we do and they catch him, he'll tell them about the book and the theatre... and maybe even about Vincent, assuming he knows that much."

Yuffie looked as horrified as he felt for a moment. "They'd never believe him."

"Wilder and Spencer," was all he said to that.

Yuffie gulped and nodded. Those two might not believe, but somehow she knew that they wouldn't just wave it off.

The elevator dinged as they reached the lobby.

"So what are we going to do?"

Aaron shook his head. "I don't know, but we need help, we need Vincent."

"The theatre." They both said with a nod.

A cab was just discharging a customer at the front of his building and they piled in and gave the driver the address to a pub a block away from the theatre.

SCENE 3

Raymond gave an inarticulate cry as he tried to wipe the stinging pepper spray from his streaming eyes. He heard Aaron and Yuffie leave, but couldn't focus enough to try shooting at them. Besides, the noise might bring the police into things and he wasn't ready for them.

At least, not until he had the book.

He staggered into the apartment's kitchen and turned on the tap at the sink, using the water to flush out his eyes. After a while he shut off the faucet and reached out blindly until he managed to find a roll of paper towel on some trendy little stand thing. He ripped off several sheets of it and dried his face off.

His eyesight still wasn't very good, but it didn't matter, he knew where they were going. They'd never go to the cops, not with all the secrets they must have, so that left only one place. The theatre.

Raymond smiled. It was working out better than he'd planned.

SCENE 4

The cab dropped Yuffie and Aaron off at the pub and as soon as it was out of sight, they made their way to the theatre, ducking around to the back of it. Aaron, having a tendency towards being over prepared, not only had the book and his wallet on him, but he was also carrying his keys for the theatre.

The back door may have had a police seal on it, but the locks were the same as usual. The two of them barely gave the yellow warning labels a glance before Aaron broke them when he opened the door. They moved in quickly, relocking the door before calling out Vincent's name.

A few seconds later Aaron called his name again and exchanged worried glances with Yuffie when he didn't show up.

"Let's try the basement. Even if he isn't there, Thing may know where he is," Yuffie nodded at the manager's suggestion.

They clambered down the stairs and through the piles of useful junk until, with a gasp from Yuffie and a blink of surprise from Aaron, they found a blanket covered Vincent on the floor in the middle of the basement.

"Vincent!" Yuffie dropped to her knees beside him.

Vincent grimaced, and then opened his eyes. "Yuffie, what are you doing here?" He sat up and noticed the blanked with a little frown of confusion.

"Raymond came in, and he wanted the book, and he had a gun, and he stabbed Nelson and drowned Rosella, and I pepper sprayed him, but he still had a gun, so we came here." Vincent blinked as he tried to make sense of Yuffie babble sentence.

It didn't take long.

With a near inaudible curse, Vincent stood up and shook himself free of the blanket.

"Thing."

A sigh came from behind them. "I'm right here."

They all turned to look at him and Vincent was glad that he was continuing his archivist role, as he really didn't feel like dealing with a cartoon character.

"I never had the chance to ask you about Rosella last night."

Thing looked both distressed and depressed. "I don't know Vincent. I know she died in the theatre last night and I know she didn't stay dead, but I don't know how it happened or who did it." He paused for a moment. "Hmmm, that's not quite right. I don't know who killed her, but I did feel Aaron and Yuffie save her."

"Thing?" Vincent said, stretching the name out until it sounded like a suspicious question.

"It's the same sense of misdirection I get with the book. The same sense I get when Blackwell is here." Thing said in a whisper. "But, I don't know why he would do something like that."

"It wasn't Blackwell," Aaron said. "It was Raymond." He paused in thought for a moment. "Unless they're one and the same?"

Yuffie shook her head. "If he were Blackwell, he probably wouldn't need the book. Even if he did, he's had two years to pull it out of the cubby-hole in his dressing room. Blackwell would have had to have known it was there."

The sudden crack, pop, and hiss of the theatre's loudspeaker system made all of them wince and look up. "Ah, Aaron, you should really get the skinflints that pretend to run this place to cough up a little money for a new system." Raymond's voice came to them over the crackly hum of a speaker that had obviously been wired into the basement back in the 1950s.

Vincent glanced at Thing who shook his head in bewilderment. "I didn't hear him come in. I can barely tell that he's here now."

"I know you're here Aaron and I want my book. If you bring it to me, I won't hurt your little friend here. Isn't that right Yorik, because after all, there is more going on than was dreamt of in your philosophy."

"What is he...?" Yuffie trailed off as she noticed that all three of the men, living, dead and created had turned pale.

"Guys?"

Vincent looked at her. "Do you remember when I said that being a guardian required that I leave or have placed a physical part of me within the building?"

"Well sure, but what does that have to do with Raymond holding Yorik for ransom? It's a prop."

All three of them just looked at her.

"You mean..." Yuffie really wanted to ewww, but she refrained, as she would more or less be going ewww at Vincent.

Vincent nodded. "It's probably why watching Hamlet almost always gives me headaches."

"Aaron," Raymond's increasingly annoying voice came back over the air. "If you and Yuffie and whatever actually belongs to this skull aren't up on the stage in, hmmm, let's say five minutes, then I'm going to see how bone reacts in a microwave."

"I hate to mention it, "Aaron said, "but he has a gun. If we go out on stage he could just pick us off at a distance."

"Do you really thing he'd give up the chance to perform in front of a captive audience?" Yuffie asked him in reply.

"Huh, no, I guess not."

"You three had better get up there, I'll see what I can do from this end." Thing told them.

SCENE 5

Yuffie stepped out on the stage of the Marionette Theatre with a sense of foreboding. The two men with her, one on each side, radiated anger, frustration and the sort of danger that any sane person would have known to stay away from.

Too bad Raymond wasn't exactly sane.

"Ah so glad you could make it Aaron, Yuffie and... You know, I have seen you around from time to time, but I never got your name."

"Vincent." Yuffie shivered at the sound of Vincent's voice and wondered when it had gotten so cold in the building.

"Vincent, not a bad name, but I think I'll call Yorik instead. It is how I usually think of you." Raymond hefted Vincent's skull up in his left hand while he spoke.

His right one was holding the previously mentioned gun.

"You know I've talked with you so often," Raymond said, aiming the statement more to the skull than to Vincent. "That I've come to think that I know you rather well."

Vincent didn't say anything, but Yuffie and Aaron both got the feeling that the only reason Vincent hadn't already attempted to gut the insane actor in front of them, was because he was afraid for their safety.

Raymond put the skull down on the table behind him. "But enough small talk. I want my book Aaron, and I know you have it."

"It isn't your book Raymond. If it belongs to anyone, it belongs to Clyde Blackwell and you're not him."

"No, you're right, I'm not him. I am however his only living descendent."

Stunned, the three of them could only gape at the man.

"Surprising I know, to think that the man was my great, great... great, well several times great uncle." Raymond shook his head in mock sadness. "He was such a disappointment. I mean, rich old uncles are supposed to die and leave you all their money. They're not supposed to discover the secret to immortality and leave most of their money to help run a second rate theatre and then disappear with the rest of it so they could retire to France."

Aaron managed to shake himself free of the shock. "Okay, but that just reaffirms the fact that the book belongs to Blackwell."

"Dead men don't have possessions." Raymond's voice had gone cold and carried with it an edge of sickness.

Yuffie thought she felt the theatre shiver ever so slightly at the suggestion that Blackwell was dead.

"He isn't dead Raymond."

"Oh, but he is Aaron. I should know, I killed him myself."

This time Yuffie felt the vibration through the soles of her shoes when the theatre shuddered.

"What are you talking about?" Vincent asked, finally joining the conversation.

"Why revenge Yorik, what else? He should have died and left his money to the rest of the family. Instead he tried to take it with him and left the main family line to its dwindling finances and eventual destitution."

"In other words, they spent what they had and took what they could get from him and when he left his money to other sources they finally had to get off their behinds and work for a living." Raymond turned slightly to take in the new player. He frowned, not recognizing the tall angular man as anyone from the theatre, but noticed that he was familiar for some reason.

"Or at least, that's what the theatre remembers your uncle saying about that."

"Who the hell are you?"

"It doesn't really matter. What matters is what did you mean, that you killed Blackwell?"

A smirk twisted the edges of Raymond's mouth. "A little over two years ago I tracked my uncle down, using the family stories, newspaper accounts and the financial records. They might have fooled the people of the time, but don't stand up to today's methods."

Raymond gave a little humph. "Of course, at the time I was just trying to track the money and get it back, I never expected to find him, or this." He flung his arms wide, taking in the theatre. "The idiot actually discovered the secret to immortality and what does he do with it? He stuffs it into a theatre and only uses it enough to keep himself healthy and alive when he could have had whatever he wanted."

"The right words in a few of the right ears and he would have had the rich and the powerful lining up to bow and scrape and give him whatever he wanted. Instead he moves to Paris and becomes a street painter."

"I was really surprised when I found him, and even more shocked when I realized who he really was." Raymond's smile made Yuffie feel nauseous and unclean. "But not as surprised as he was when I put a bullet through his head. Although it really shouldn't have been that much of a shock to him, not after spending a week torturing him for the secret of his long life.

"He didn't tell you where the book was, did he?"

Raymond glared at Yuffie's quiet question. "No. Oh, he told me I would need the book, but I never could get him to tell me where it was. If I'd known it would be so hard to find I'd have kept him alive a little longer. He'd have cracked eventually."

Raymond sighed and gave his head a little shake. "I think that's enough talking. I want my book Aaron, so give it to me, or the next head with a bullet through it will be that little sluts beside you."

Blam.

Yuffie jumped at the sound of a gunshot and she touched her forehead, expecting to find a bloody round hole there. She was rather surprised when Raymond dropped his gun and started to shriek, blood pouring from his hand. Had it blown up? She looked over at Vincent, surprised to see him pointing an old-fashioned duelling pistol at the screaming madman. A wisp of smoke escaped from the barrel.

She swallowed thickly as her gaze moved from the gun to his eyes. They had always been more red than brown in colour, but now they glowed like freshly spilled blood. Vincent was looking at Raymond the way someone would a piece of offal. The guardian relaxed his stance and lowered his weapon, the gun disappearing into his coat.

Thing moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with Vincent and the two of them started to talk in eerie synchronicity. The theatre shuddered as they did, almost as if it were adding a third voice to what they were saying.

"Raymond Palmer, for the death of Clyde Blackwell this theatre revokes the protection of blood it has unwittingly extended you. It also exacts its own revenge, and eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth," Vincent pulled the duelling pistol out of his coat once more and levelled it at the actor. "A bullet for a bullet."

Yuffie felt she had to stop this, but Aaron grabbed her and just shook his head no.

Raymond, while obviously in pain, just laughed at the whole thing. "Come off it Yorik, duelling pistols are a one shot gun. What do you expect to do with it now, throw it at me?"

He was really surprised when the bullet entered his brain.

Vincent's eyes flared even brighter for a moment. "This theatre is magic Raymond, and those that guard it are as well. But even if it wasn't, duelling pistols always come in pairs." Thing stood beside him, shaking his head at the actor's stupidity.

Vincent stepped over the body and retrieved his skull. He turned to look at Aaron and Yuffie. Aaron had weathered stranger moments with Vincent and was taking it in his stride, but Yuffie…

Yuffie wouldn't even look at him.

It didn't matter, he told himself. It would have never worked between them anyway.

And he headed back to the prop room to put his skull away.

SCENE 6

Thing gave Raymond's body a prod with his foot and looked up at Aaron. "Aaron, he's still alive."

Yuffie and Aaron looked up in surprise. "What?"

"The theatre isn't willing to have him die here. It doesn't want the chance that he could become part of us."

The thought of Raymond influencing what the theatre did was indeed a horrifying thought.

"I'm going to use Raymond's cell phone to call 911." Thing smiled a little. "I'm sure I can pull off a passable impersonation of Raymond's voice for them."

"But, but what if they manage to save him?" Yuffie winced, not happy at herself for wanting Raymond dead.

"Even if they do, his brains will be scrambled. At best, at least for him, he won't remember a thing. At worse he'll be a vegetable." Thing sighed. "It may not be very nice of us, but even if he did kill Clyde, we weren't comfortable killing a Blackwell. But, we couldn't let him continue as he was. He shook his head, dismissing the problem for now. "You two had better get out of here and make with an alibi, before the police get here."

"But, what about Vincent?" Yuffie asked, confused.

"Ah, he needs to mope for a bit. Once we get this mess cleaned up you can come back and give him a thump on the head for being an idiot."

Yuffie nodded and let Aaron lead her away.

At the edge of the stage, Aaron turned back to Thing, who was just fishing Raymond's cell phone out of the actor's pocket.

"Thing, I have to know. How can you be up here? You've never done it before."

The Thing from the Basement gave a shrug. "I always could move around the theatre if I wanted to, it just isn't very comfortable. I find it to be rather draining, much the way Vincent does when he'd outside of the theatre. Now scat, before you get caught."

Aaron dragged Yuffie to a little bistro three blocks away from the theatre. As an alibi, it was crap, but it was the best they could do on short notice. Aaron had almost considered a bar, but suspected it would be difficult to not go ahead and get drunk and he would probably need all his facilities for the next few hours.

Aaron got a coffee, Yuffie ordered tea, and they both got the soup and sandwich special, which they mostly played with rather then ate.

And when they both got tired of that, Aaron paid the bill and got them a cab. If they were going to wait for the police to come calling, they might as well do it at his place.

SCENE 7

It took a long time for everything to get back to normal, or at least as normal as it got in the Marionette theatre.

The police questioned everyone again but after a couple of weeks of finding nothing, they finally had to let the theatre reopen.

The theatre did not continue to do Hamlet.

In fact, they decided to avoid anything by Shakespeare for the next two years.

Nelson made a full recovery. Rosella had a scary time with flash backs and a bout of pneumonia, but eventually she also made a full recovery.

The two of them started to date each other and it looks like it could be serious.

Raymond is still in a coma and on life support, no one expects him to wake up.

Detectives Wilder and Spencer are stumped and are still looking for whoever is responsible for three attempted murders. They're also keeping a wary eye on the Marionette Theatre and anything odd that happens around it.

Aaron continues to work for the theatre, but plans to take a couple of weeks off very soon.

Thing returned to his basement and is currently reading Kafka, something that makes Aaron want to plan those two weeks off even sooner.

Yuffie has a contract with the theatre for the next year.

And Vincent...

Vincent was moping. He didn't have one place in the theatre were he felt the most comfortable, but having read The Phantom of the Opera as a child he had a tendency to watch rehearsals from box five.

The play was interesting, but not so interesting that Vincent shouldn't have noticed someone enter the box and come up behind him. He really was surprised when something hard slammed down on the top of his head.

"Vincent." Yuffie practically hissed out his name at him and he realized that the hard thing had been Yuffie's clenched fist.

"Yuffie." He said, his voice as emotionless as he could make it. He had managed to avoid her ever since the night he'd shot Raymond, which was easy to do when he always knew where she was. Except for now.

"How did you manage to sneak up on me?" Confusion lended his voice a little colour.

Yuffie shook her head at him. "Thing helped me. We both decided that you had been an idiot for long enough and it was time you got thumped on the head and told to get over it."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Damn it Vincent don't do this. Don't do this to yourself, don't do this to me." She looked at him, unshed tears turning her eyes bright. "Don't do this to us."

"There isn't an us, Yuffie."

Yuffie clenched her eyes shut and a single tear escaped, running down her cheek.

Vincent looked away, uncertain if the heart he heard breaking was his or hers.

He felt his eyes cross as something hard slammed down on the top of his head again.

"That's just bullshit Vincent." Fire filled her eyes, where before there had been tears.

"I'm not alive Yuffie." He started.

"I don't care."

"I have to spend most of my time in the theatre."

"So do I."

"I have and will kill to protect this theatre."

"Yes, but I suspect you'd do the same to protect me or Aaron as well."

Vincent blinked and tried a different approach.

"I don't eat, I rarely sleep..."

"I can do enough of that for the two of us."

"I don't age."

"If I want it I don't have to either."

Another blink, but she was right. The theatre liked Yuffie and would be glad to help her in that way.

"I wouldn't be able to give you children."

"We'll adopt.

"You would never have a normal life."

"For crying out loud Vincent, if I'd wanted a normal life I would never have become an actor. I love you, that's what matters and I want to be with you, because no matter how strange it will probably be, I know that it will be wonderful." She blinked, the tears back in her eyes again.

"I don't want to be without you Vincent."

Vincent took in a breath to tell her no, to tell her he didn't want her, didn't love her, but it would have all been a lie and a complete betrayal of himself. He felt the pain of that lie pierce him through the heart and he doubled over in sudden agony.

"Vincent!"

Arms wrapped around him, soothing and warm in a way that travelled through his body and quenched the hurt in his heart.

And suddenly his lips were on hers and he clutched her to him, not wanting to ever let go.

They came apart only far enough so they could look in each other's eyes.

"I love you Yuffie." Tears threatened to spill from both of their eyes. "I don't know if this will work, but I'll try if you will, because I may not be completely alive, but without you I might as well have just stayed dead."

Yuffie choked slightly. "Don't say that, don't ever say that."

"It won't make it less true." He smiled that little minimal smile at her and leaned in for another kiss. As their lips met, they both realized that it wouldn't be easy. It would probably never be easy. But then, what relationship are? There would be some hard times and for certain there would be some strange times, but it didn't matter. They would weather them just as they had the ones they had just come through.

Love was a more powerful and enduring magic than anything a sorcerer could ever dream up. And, while there was a lot of magic in this place, between them there would be even more love.

Yuffie's smile, once they'd broken their kiss, was just devilish enough to make Vincent worried.

"So," she asked. "Your place or mine?"

She gasped as Vincent picked her up, bridal style.

"You know, I don't think you've seen the attics yet."

She smiled and kissed him again. "You know, I think you're right."

The End


End file.
